


This Paradox Place

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 800 Followers Special, A softer world - Freeform, Adrenaline Junkies, Implied Bondage, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Multi, Practice Kissing, Request Meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: A series of requests based onthese'A Softer World' quotes.





	1. Sheith #31

_I love the way your face lights up when someone says, “It might be dangerous.” (I am glad we are friends.)_

Shiro had been a shock.

Once upon a time, Keith had been prepared to hate him.  With his easy smiles and quiet tone, the way he was too quick with a salute and too eager to say ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘Yes, Ma’am’, the slight pause before any kind of ‘No’.

Keith had taken one look at him and thought ‘Him?’  This was the shadow Keith had been chasing, the Shiro.Tak in all records?  This kiss ass?  How did that happen?

When they’d been forced together, when one of Shiro’s ‘Yes, Sir’s had been to work with Keith, there was only one reason Keith had tolerated it at all.  He’d been taught to be a creature of spite.  Keith would dig in his heels, learn every little trick the teacher’s pet knew, wring him completely dry, then destroy his records and leave him behind.  

Then Keith could move on, and he’d never have to see this waste of talent and his stupid face again.

That was, until the first pair flying simulations.

“You ready?” Shiro had asked, brows up and gaze steady.  It was phrased like an honest question, and his face was kind and neutral, but there was just a hint of something in his eyes.

_Can you keep up?_

Gritting his teeth, Keith had snorted.  He’d consistently refused to give Shiro one more word than he had to.  Made him fight for every bit of interaction.  Just speaking had felt like a waste, like a give.

Shiro had just nodded, used to Keith by then, and smiled.  Then he’d turned on the simulation, set up the console and flown out like a bat out of hell.

Keith had never in his life been afraid of heights or been bothered by speed.  He’d always wanted more, wanted his bikes to go faster, to get better air.

And he’d still found himself clutching the armrests of his seat like a little kid on their first roller coaster ride.

When he looked over, eyes wide, Shiro glanced over.  And he was still infuriatingly polished and put together.  

Except for the wild look in his eyes and the slightly too wide smile.

And that was when things changed.

 

“Kerberos?”  Keith had questioned, months later. The were in Shiro’s dorm, and thankfully his judgmental dick of a roommate was out.  “You applied?”

Shiro nodded, not looking over as he continued typing away.  Apparently, applying for maiden voyages to the literal edge of the solar system involved a lot of paperwork.  Because of course it did.  “Sure.  They haven’t announced the specifics, yet, but why not?  Maybe I’ll get a junior position.  It’d be worth it to get to go that far.  If I don’t at least try it’ll be years before there’s another chance.”

Watching him, Keith tossed Shiro’s roommate’s rubber band ball from hand to hand.  He considered pulling it apart and leaving it on his desk, just for the joy of imagining his face. Keith still ran on spite, some days.  “It might be dangerous.”

This time, Shiro did look up.  And he grinned.  It was the same smile from that first pair simulation, when Shiro had looked wild and unhinged, a wolf stuffed haphazardly into a sheep’s regulation uniform.

Keith smiled back.

Because yeah.  That was the fucking _point._

 

More than two years later, after a year with no more smiles but many more lies, Keith stood in front of the door to Shiro’s room.  It was open, and Shiro was watching him warily.  It was an animal sort of look, unsure if fight or flight was the best option.

Keith hated that the part of Shiro that had been a wolf jauntily wearing a dog’s collar was twisted, made skittish and abused by the Galra.  The traits that made Shiro survive were the traits that haunted him now.  But they were also the traits that made Keith fall for him in the first place.

Glancing down the hall, wary of listeners (always a threat: Hunk was notoriously nosy, and Lance loved gossip.  That wasn’t even touching the mice), Shiro frowned darkly.  “It’s not a good idea,” he murmured.  “We’re not.  Before it all, maybe.”

“You think it’ll affect the team?” Keith asked, voice flat.  He wasn’t sure if it would or not.  Shiro was better with people, but he was also biased, more anxious about taking.  Like everything that soothed him was poisoned and he was to blame.

Shiro sighed.  “I don’t know.  Probably.”  Then he looked down at his metal arm.  He made a fist and let go.  In the quiet of the hall, they could both hear the whir.  “It might be dangerous.”

It was hard to tell if by ‘it’ Shiro meant the arm, or if he meant himself.

Keith didn’t care either way.  Both were wrong.

So instead of bothering with words, Keith stepped forward into Shiro’s space until he looked up.  Then he shot him that wolf’s smile.

_Can you keep up?_

As Shiro’s eyes widened, Keith grabbed him by the vest and pulled him down into a kiss.

After a moment, Shiro’s surprise softened into want, and he melted into the kiss.  He opened his mouth to it. Opened himself.

When they broke apart, Shiro was smiling too.

It might be dangerous.

Yeah.  That was the fucking _point._


	2. Shunk

_ I know your weakness.  It’s kisses.  You are doomed. (Don’t worry.  We’re all doomed eventually.) _

 

“So what about you?” Hunk asked, following Shiro out of the training room.  The others had gone ahead to wash up, but he’d stayed behind and offered to help clean up.  After all, it wasn’t fair that Shiro had to do it alone.  And it had nothing to do with wanting to have some one on one time.

Try telling that to Lance, though.  As soon as the words had been out of Hunk’s mouth, he’d waggled his brows suggestively and made finger guns.  And then, right before he slipped out, Lance had shot him a last wink and a thumbs up.

Honestly, Hunk wasn’t sure if he should laugh or roll his eyes.  Or if he should go for it.  Now that Shiro had he were a thing (what kind of thing still hadn’t been verbalized, but Hunk surprisingly wasn’t too fussed over it), it wasn’t a bad idea.

Looking over, Shiro tilted his head.  “What about me?”

Hunk flapped a hand.  “You had us go over stuff and talk about where we need to improve.  Self-evaluations day.  What about you?”

“Oh.”  Shiro’s brows went up as he considered Hunk.  “I speak with Allura and Coran about that.”

That made sense.  After all, Shiro had been doing it as their commanding officer.  He didn’t exactly answer to them.

When Hunk didn’t reply immediately, Shiro’s shoulders straightened and he met Hunk’s gaze more directly.  “Why? Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

Hunk glanced at Shiro, worried for a moment.  But he didn’t sound upset.  He sounded like he always did, when they complained or had a suggestion.  Gently curious, but confident.

Which was what made Hunk comfortable enough to continue.

“I noticed one thing,” he replied carefully.  “I don’t think anyone else would have seen it, though.  Or the Galra.  It’s not a big deal, just a little vulnerability.  A weak spot.”

Shiro’s brows furrowed and he frowned thoughtfully.  “What is it?”

Taking deep breath, and channeling every moment he’d helped Lance spend practicing his one-liners, Hunk stepped forward and pushed against Shiro’s chest, gentle but firm.  Shiro stepped back with it, until his back hit the hallway wall.  

Then Hunk leaned in to kiss him.

Like a reliable machine, Shiro did the same thing as always.  He started, like romantic contact was so foreign he had to get used to it, and then he leaned into the kiss.  If Hunk parted his lips, Shiro would follow, but as of right now he never started that himself.

He was letting Hunk set the pace.  Which was nice, and Hunk appreciated it, but he hoped someday soon Shiro would feel more comfortable asking.

When he pulled back, Hunk schooled his face into a serious expression.  “Kisses are your weakness.  You melt into them every time.  Very vulnerable.  Who knows what could happen?”

Shiro blinked, then laughed.  “Hunk!  I thought there was an actual problem.”

“It is,” Hunk replied, giving up and smiling back.  “It’s a very serious issue, Shiro.  What would happen if someone knew all they had to do was kiss you, hm?”

Shaking his head, Shiro wrapped his hand around the back of Hunk’s head and pulled him in for another kiss.  “Well, it’s not kissing in general.  It’s your kisses.  So I guess displaying that weakness is up to you, isn’t it?”  He paused, and seemed to consider.  “Besides, I only have the one.  You have two weaknesses.”

Hunk crinkled his nose.  “Yeah?  What’s that?”

Grinning, all sudden mischief, Shiro nipped on Hunk’s bottom lip, making his breath hitch and his cheeks flush.  “That.  And also…”  Shiro leaned it again, then paused close enough that Hunk could feel his breath on his now more sensitive lips.

Then Shiro twisted his fingers into Hunk’s headband and yanked it off his head, dancing backwards out of reach.  

For a moment, Hunk only stared, reaching up to brush his fingers through his now freed hair.  Then he started after Shiro, who continued to back away.  “Hey!  Give it back!  How’s this a weakness?”

“You’re distracted!” Shiro called back tauntingly.  With a smirk, he shoved the handband into the pocket of his vest.  

Hunk started to jog after, trying to make his expression intimidating.  “You know I’m going to get that back from you.”

But Shiro only raised his brows.  “Well, for the sake of training, I should remind you to use your opponents weaknesses against them.”

And Hunk did.

He got his headband back, but they were both mused and ruffled from the struggle.  And the other parts.

When they got to lunch, Lance took one look at them and whooped.

That time, Hunk rolled his eyes and blushed.


	3. Matt/Shiro, 19

Over the past month, Matt had discovered that Takashi Shirogane was a  _ jackass. _

It wasn’t even in the way that Matt could deal with, either.  If he was an outright dick, he could have gone to someone and prodded until they took him off the mission.  Team cohesion was important, after all, and Matt was the more specialized of the two roles.  Yeah, okay, it took a good pilot to get from here to Kerberos, but there were plenty in the Garrison.  There were very few people whose expertise crossed over paleobiology, astrophysics and mechanical engineering.  The only other one who could go was already the mission commander  _ and _ Matt’s father.

But Shirogane never crossed a line.  There was nothing Matt could point out or repeat or record that said ‘there, that’s why, kick him out right now’.  Even Dad didn’t seem to see it, and he’d been there every step of the way.

“He’s nervous,” Dad had said, giving Matt that disappointed ‘you’re being unreasonable stop annoying me over this’ look.  “Let it be.”

Glancing back over his shoulder at where Shirogane was doing warm-up stretches with a look of blank disinterest, Matt snorted.  “Yeah, sure.  He’s always like this, Dad.”  And he had been.  Mind, they hadn’t ever interacted much, and he smiled and talked more at the Garrison, but he’d always been stand-offish. Never part of the groups, not really.  Matt had heard from plenty of other pilots who had very little good to say about Shirogane.

“You think so?” Dad shot back, brows up and lips quirked up.  It said ‘I know something you don’t know’, and Matt’s irritation spiked higher.  “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

He’d been saying that for weeks now, and Shirogane was still training with him.

Grinding his teeth, Matt stalked over to begin the assignment.  Shirogane glanced over at him, then gave one of those cold, expressionless nods and went back to work.

Arrogant and unfriendly, and Matt was going to have to share a tiny spaceship with him for at least a year.

God, this was such a damn mistake.  Matt could see it now, stretched out before him like a holographic projection of the night sky to the horizon.  The next year was going to be  _ hell _ .

Well, if he had to put up with a jackass of a glorified ferryman, at least he got decent eye candy out of it.

 

God, this was such a damn mistake.

Matt had been wrong.  Wrong wrong  _ wrong. _  And he’d never liked that, but it had never been such a problem.

Because Shiro had opened up, slowly but surely, twisting and falling open like an intricate puzzle box.  Matt had never in his life been able to resist the temptation of an unsolved puzzle, so he prodded and he twisted until from his perspective, Shiro was in another form entirely.

Instead, this Shiro made Star Trek jokes with him.  He waxed poetical about gravity assists and riding on the metaphorical dips and curves of the fabric of space time.  He had a sly sense of humor, half wordplay and half understated, dark implications, and he’d glance out from under those too-long-for-regulation bangs and Matt’s own smile would freeze.

And that was nothing compared to the awe on his face right now, the reflections of stars in his eyes.  The small smile that Matt had once thought too reserved to be real, but now he just found gorgeous.

“What’cha doin, Wash?” Matt asked, voice flip, because if he sounded like he was joking, he wouldn’t sound sappy.  He tucked a foot under the pilot seat so he wouldn’t float away, then rested an arm behind Shiro’s neck.  If asked, he’d say he was holding on to the back of the chair.

Always, always have an out, have an excuse.  Matt was not getting trapped in this, no way in hell.

Glancing over, Shiro gave him a sheepish look.  “Not much.  Just going over calculations.  It just hit, you know?  Less than a week till Kerberos, now.”

Matt looked out the window again, finding the speck among many that was Pluto.  “What, did you miss the dance party I threw about it last night?”

“Does it count as a dance party when it’s you awkwardly bumping the door with your hips?”

Gasping, Matt put his free hand on his chest.  “How dare you insult my people’s dances.  I’ll have you know the white suburban dad shuffle is my cultural heritage.”

Shiro shook his head, but he was outright grinning.  “Yeah, well, it didn’t  _ hit _ until now.  Sorry to disappoint.  Guess I was too distracted by your moves.”

“Oh no, you can’t sweet talk me now.  I know how you feel, now.  You two-faced snake, you.”  Matt considered Shiro for a moment, head tilted.  “You said you dance, right?”

Shiro paused, like he’d never expected Matt to remember something like that.  Joke was on him, because Matt remembered everything about Shiro.  “Yeah, some.  Why?”

“Show me?”

God, this was stupid.  This was such an utter mistake.  But Shiro beamed so brightly it put all the stars they were reaching for to shame, and he stood and took Matt’s hand in his.

It was a mistake, like the mistakes stretching out behind Matt and the ones still ahead.

But it was the kind Matt wanted to make.  So he held onto Shiro’s hand and laughed as he was spun in a gentle circle, and the lack of gravity kept him going.

The twisting in his stomach was either dizziness or love.  One or the other.

 

When Shiro pulled back from the kiss, his shoulders were tight but his eyes were warm.

Matt licked his lips, still processing.  “You’re sure?” He asked, voice soft.  Because there was so much on Shiro’s shoulders.  They were both scarred, physically and otherwise.  Because they could get hurt, and Matt wanted anything but to hurt Shiro more.

“Yes,” Shiro replied, quiet but sure.  “Maybe it’s a mistake, but it’s the kind I want to make.  To keep making.”

Good. So did Matt.

The future was bright, and so were Shiro’s eyes.


	4. Hance, 40

_ I laugh along but inside I know that it’s true: Being in love is totally punk rock. (quiet kisses are so hardcore) _

 

“Girls are into guys who like guys,” Lance explained, shoulders set and chest out like he was asserting Known Fact.  Except that there was a shy tilt to his head, a nervous glint to his eyes.  

That and his face was bright red.

Not that Hunk wasn’t blushing too.  It was hard not to, when his best friend and roommate suddenly asked him to make out.

Nodding, Hunk bit his lip.  “I guess so, yeah.”

Lance pointed at him, as if that proved his point.  “Yeah!  Totally.  And it’s practice, you know?  Not to say I’m not an awesome kisser.  Or that I haven’t kissed tons of girls before.  Just there’s always room to improve, right?”

“Right,” Hunk replied, barely paying attention to what he was saying.  His head was still swimming, his brain stuck replaying the same moment over and over.  Usually when that happened, it was when he’d done something embarrassing or gotten a wrong answer in glass.  Now his brain was skipping like a glitched song, a never-ending parade of Lance casually turning to him and asking ‘You wanna make out?’

Lance got out of his desk chair and moved to sit next to Hunk on his bed.  “You can say no,” he burst out, sudden and painfully loud.  Nervous.  “If you don’t like the idea.  It’s just a thought.  No big deal,  you know?”

Staring at him, Hunk’s brows furrowed at the sudden change.  Then he realized he hadn’t ever replied directly.  “Oh!  No, it’s fine.  It’s a good idea.  There’s no reason we shouldn’t kiss, right?”

“Exactly!” Lance let out, even as his shoulders slumped with obvious relief.  “It’s the perfect plan.  And you’re right, we don’t have have to- kissing is awesome.  Friend kissing is cool, right?  ‘Cause, like, we like each other.  We’re best friends, I love you.  And so we can kiss and it’s not weird at all.”

Hunk wasn’t sure he was following Lance’s logic, but he bobbed his head anyway.  “Right.  Yeah.  Totally not weird.”

“It’s like, it’s going against those stupid rules.  The ones that don’t make any sense.  Like wearing your uniform off base, who cares?  And this is a ‘kiss people you like’, except we’re still doing it, so no one can complain.”  Lance nodded to himself.  “It’s punk rock, you know?”

Who, exactly, was supposed to be complaining here?  Hunk had no idea, but he didn’t want to ask and make Lance lose his steam.  Instead he gave an appreciative laugh, as best he could manage when his chest felt so tight.  “Absolutely.  Very punk rock.”

If Lance noticed that his reaction was slightly stilted, he didn’t say anything.  Instead he leaned forward, meeting Hunk’s eyes.  “You, uh... we can’t wait till later, or...?”

Swallowing hard, Hunk shoved his aerodynamics textbook out of his way with uncharacteristic lack of care.  “Now’s cool,” he replied.  “Like a study break.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied, but now he sounded distracted.  His eyes were locked onto Hunk’s lips, watching with almost uncanny concentration.  

Hunk’s breath caught, and his heart stuttered.

Maybe this was a bad idea.  But Hunk  _ wanted _ it, and Lance had been the one to offer.  All Hunk had to do was accept it.

So Hunk closed his eyes and he leaned forward.

At first, their noses bumped, because Hunk had been going in blind and Lance hadn’t been looking at the rest of his face.  But then they both tilted, and their lips brushed, and...

Lance’s lips were soft and warm.  At first he didn’t move, didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, and Hunk was reminded that for all Lance’s talk, he’d only ever seen him get one date, and it had ended by that Saturday.

But that didn’t matter at all, not even one little bit.  Because it was perfect.

Pulling back, Hunk resisted the urge to lick his lips or touch them.  But he couldn’t ignore the way his heart was pounding and he felt light-headed, like he’d been holding his breath for the past few minutes.

“See?” Lance said, and his voice was breathless as Hunk felt.  “Punk rock.”

“Definitely,” Hunk agreed, and wished his voice didn’t sound so rough from just one kiss.

It was true, though. It was definitely punk rock to kiss.  Just as punk rock as it was to be in love with his best friend.

Which was to say, this was the kind of perfect pain that made for songs you wanted to scream along to.

Hunk was going to sing this song as long as he could manage.


	5. Shalluratt, 4

_ "I don't know what the fuck true love even is, but I do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (Let's hang out -TO THE DEATH.) _

 

“Are you falling asleep, Shiro?”  Allura asked softly.  Her hand - identifiable by her longer nails - slipped into his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face.  “If you need rest...”

Forcing his eyes open, Shiro frowned.  “No,” he insisted, and he knew his tone sounded awake and alert.

But his expression must not have been as good, because Matt peered at him and snorted.  “I think Shiro finds our conversation boring.”

“No!” Shiro insisted, louder this time.  He tried to get up, but Allura’s other arm was wrapped around his waist, and he was stopped short.  “Just sore.  You can blame your dad for that.”

As expected, Matt only grinned.  

It was true anyway.  Shiro ached from training today.  He’d invited Sam to join to play an enemy sniper with his paintball gun, a role which he’d taken to with all the smug joy of a duck taking over a wading pool.  But what Shiro hadn’t expected was for Sam to steal Lance and make him into his apprentice for the afternoon.

Lance had already been a good shot.  Under Sam’s direct tutelage, he was outright terrifying. 

It had been good training, and the kind that taxed Shiro nearly as much as the rest of the team.  But now he had a new collection of bruises where he’d been hit with blue paint.

“You still haven’t taken part in the combat elements of paintball,” Allura mused, and Shiro could feel her hair shift as she tilted his head.  “Do you not enjoy it, Matt?”

Shrugging, Matt sprawled out, kicking his socked feet out until he could shove them under Shiro’s thighs.  Shiro grumbled at the cold, but didn’t bother to move them away.  “I’m okay at it?  I dunno, Dad signed me up for a league when I was a kid, but I hated it.  The whole thing was such a pain, and there were other things I’d rather be doing.  I guess it made an impression.”  Considering Allura right back, Matt’s lips quirked up.  “And you still prefer to use your paintball gun as a blunt force weapon.”

Tilting his head back, Shiro snorted.  “Do you have something against guns?”

“No,” Allura replied primly, a sure sign she was covering something up.  When neither so much as dignified the lie with a response, she sighed.  “I’m not a fan, no.  They don’t maintain physical strength the way the weapons I’m used to do.”

This time, Shiro laughed.  “You don’t like firing guns because you don’t get to hit people hard enough?  Why does that make  _ sense?” _

“Because it’s perfectly logical,” Allura returned, trying for regal.  There was too much laughter in her voice to properly manage it.

Laughing, Matt scooted forward until he could flop half across Shiro’s lap, and lean into Allura as well.  “Hey, she likes being big and strong.  Most powerful Princess around.”  His grin went dirty, and he nudged Shiro in the side.  “And you liiiike her being big.  Don’t deny it.”

“Never did,” Shiro replied.  “I do like it.  And I like you being small.  You’re both perfect.”

Matt’s brows rose, but he rolled his eyes and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Shiro’s cheeks.  “Stop being sincere and ruining our fun.”

Allura huffed out a quiet laugh.  “No, I’m quite enjoying being called perfect.”  Her hand went back to combing through his hair, and Shiro’s eyes fell shut again in automatic, pleasurable reaction.  “Regardless, neither of you have any right to criticise my techniques until you can best me.”

“Aww, then I’ll never get to tease. And then I’ll shrivel up and die.  Do you want to be responsible for that?”

The two of them went back to chatting, jumping for training to the castle layout to the mice so quickly that Shiro gave up on following the conversation.  Instead he just reached out to Matt, wrapping an arm around his waist.  He adjusted to the grip without a pause, and when Shiro nuzzled in further to Allura’s shoulder, her only reaction was to pause long enough to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

Easy.  It was all so very simple.

Shiro wasn’t sure they could have kept this up if it wasn’t.  And maybe it should have been.  Between the three of them, there would have been more conflicts, more questions, more emotions.

Instead they’d transitioned smoothly from hanging out together in the evening to hanging out together all night, with other activities in between.

Shiro wasn’t sure the words for what they had.  Wasn’t sure it wasn’t just comfort in dark times, with people who understood, or if it was something deeper than that.  To really know for sure, Shiro suspected he’d have to understand more of what was inside his own head.

For now, it was enough.  It was easy.

And Shiro would be happy to do it for the rest of his life.

In the end, maybe that was what love was for him.

He was okay with that definition. 


	6. Hunk & Pidge, 9

_ CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP NOT SURE HOW TO STOP (WHY STOP) _

 

“Okay.  It’s okay.  We’ve got this.  Everything’s just fine.”

“Hunk.”

“No, really, we’re cool.  This is great, it’s gunna be fun.  Nothing to hit out there, right?  Just open space.  For, like, ever.”

“Hunk.”

“Not ever, obviously, eventually we’ll hit something.  Just, you know, years later.  Centuries.  No big deal.  Nothing to worry about there.”

_ “Hunk!” _

Finally, Hunk’s attention snapped onto Pidge.  She frowned at him, one hand held up as if she’d been about to touch him to get him focusing.  

Unfortunately, what they were focusing on was that they were trapped in a tiny, malfunctioning Galra escape pod.  One that had been violently ejected from the ship with it started to explode.  Luckily, they’d been trying to take off, so the systems were online and the inertia dampeners were on, but they were flying fast.

Fast enough that by the time they figured out what was happening, they were far out of range or the relatively weak helmet signals.

By the time they realized that, they were so far out of range that Hunk could barely feel his lion.

He hadn’t even known that was a potential issue.  Since getting their lions, they’d never been out of a relatively short distance from them, galactically speaking.

And there was no slowing and stopping in space.  Every second they were on board was more distance between them and rescue.

Which was the thought that had set Hunk off in the first place.

“Sorry,” he muttered, closing his eyes.  “Okay.  Okay I’m focused.”

This time, Pidge did reach out and touch him.  “It’s alright.  We’ve got this.  Right now, the communications are malfunctioning, but I think the shockwave of the explosion just knocked the internal hardware loose.  Once we fix that, we can call the castle and Allura will warp to us and they’ll catch us.”

Hunk nodded slowly, then again, stronger this time.  “Right.  And you need to get the signal ready and finish getting access to the computer.  I’ll do that.  I can do that.”

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Hunk replied softly.  “I’m good.”

Having a focus other than the slow, empty feeling in his head was good.  It distracted him, kept him in the moment.  Let him function around the sudden feeling of  _ loss loss gone alone. _

When they got back - and they were going to get back, dammit - Hunk was going to give Yellow the hug of a lifetime.

Following the wires and connections of the computer, Hunk removed one of the floor panels, then ducked his head down.  Below was an absolute mess of wires and mechanics, the colors haphazard and varied.  

“This may take a minute,” Hunk sighed, pulling off with helmet.  He rubbed his ears, which were always sore from the slightly too small size.  “This isn’t exactly factory standard, down here.”  Honestly, a rabbit chewing through the wires would have done less damage.”

Pidge nodded absently.  “Need a hand?”

Considering, Hunk shook his head.  “Nah, not enough space down here for two.  You’re better off on the console.”

He got a thumbs up in response to that and another quick glance.  Then Hunk ducked his head back down.

It took a solid 5 minutes to figure out what was actually loose and what was just shoddily put back together.  If Hunk ever met the Galra who had messed with this escape pod, he was gunna have  _ words. _

“Got it,” Hunk called.  “You in?”

Pidge let out a quiet noise of relief.  “Yeah, patching in our signal now.  Thank god.  Lemme try and hail the castle.”

So, that solved the ‘alone forever’ part, and the castle would be able to catch up to them.  But at the speed they were travelling, it’d be hard for the lions to get a good grip on them and slow them down without issues.

They needed something more.

Overhead, he heard Pidge speaking, explaining the situation and assuring someone (Allura, probably) that they were fine.  While she handled that, Hunk squirmed his way deeper into the space under the floors, crawling around on his belly.  It was a tight fit, but it was made for Galra and not humans, so Hunk had more wiggle room than he’d get otherwise.

“Hunk?” Pidge called, her voice echoing in the little space.  “What are you doing?”

“Fixing things,” he called back.  “One second.”  Here, he was able to access the back of the engines.  Now that he’d seen the rest of what was down here, Hunk wasn’t surprised the jolt had knocked the thrusters out.  Everything down here was halfway to falling apart even without the aid of an explosion.   Flipping open the nearest panel, Hunk squinted and frowned.  He was too far away from the hole, now, and it was so dark-

A light flipped on next to him.  “Hey.”

Yelping, Hunk jumped, cracking his head on the ceiling/floor.  “Ow!”  Clutching at what was going to be a goose egg, he stared at Pidge.  “You scared me. I didn’t hear you.”

“Stealth’s what I’m about,” Pidge replied blandly.  “You didn’t concuss yourself, right?”

“No,” Hunk replied, just an edge of a sulk to his voice.  “Probably.”  But then he looked back down in the engine and paused.  “Oh.  Keep the light there?”

“Gotcha.”

Really, it wasn’t so bad in there.  It wasn’t that anything was missing and broken, just that it was too far out of alignment to properly start anymore.  It took some force, but Hunk was able to get everything back to rights.  He closed the hatch, then paused as Pidge’s fingers snuck under his arms to fiddle with the wire to the ignition, making sure it was in properly.

Once she was satisfied it would work, Pidge pulled her hand back.  “God, it’s awful down here.  This is justification for taking the Galra down right here.”

“I know, right?  Evil empire, fine, whatever, but standards.”  Hunk squirmed back around, making a face at how Pidge could practically sit up in the space.  “At least we can slow down, now.”

Pidge snickered.  “Slow down, fire off malfunctioning engines in the opposite direction. Same thing.”

“Exactly.”

Bending down, Pidge picked up Hunk’s discarded helmet and handed it over.  He whined, but jammed it on.  Probably a good idea.  The inertia dampeners were good, but they weren’t  _ that _ good.  This was gunna be bumpy.

“Brace yourself,” Pidge called, and Hunk grabbed onto a beam along the hull for support.  “Engines in 3...2...1...Now!”

There was a dangerously long pause, then the engine roared to life at as high a velocity as they could start it.  The whole ship shuddered, and that should have sent Hunk doubling over to hold in his stomach.  But instead he saw Pidge’s grip slip, and her eyes widening as she started to tumble back. 

Faster than he’d known he could move, Hunk’s arm snapped out and caught her in an impromptu hug, dragging her close enough that she could grab the beam too.

Pidge’s fingers grabbed at his armor automatically, and they held on tight to each other as the ship’s systems finally caught up to the abuse and settled them back down.

Slowly, Hunk picked up his head and opened his eyes.  His helmet’s glass was nearly touching Pidge’s, and she could see her eyes wide as well, blue through the slight tint.

At the same moment, they cheered.

“We survived!”

“That’s how you do it!”

Knocking their helmets together, Hunk beamed at her.  “Let’s never do this again.”

Pidge laughed.  “Agreed.  Never ever.  Galra engineering can go  _ die.” _

They were still laughing as the console screen showed the Castle arriving outside, and as their helmets crackled to life.  “Everyone okay in there?” Shiro’s voice asked, rough and anxious.

“I’m gunna be sick in like, 10 seconds,” Hunk called.  “But otherwise okay.”

“Not on me, you’re not!”

Lance laughed, the noise more than a little strained.  “You should be used to that from training.”

Clearing his throat, Keith spoke up.  “I’m glad everyone’s okay, but... you’re picking up speed again.”

Pausing, Hunk’s eyes caught Pidge’s.

Ah, hell.  The engines.  They’d never turned it back off.  A press of the button stopped them from accelerating, but it did nothing for their current speed.

Trading a look, Pidge waggled her brows.  “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

Hunk burst into snickers.  “Can someone help us stop?”


	7. Heith, 18

_ I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m no good) _

 

Something was wrong.  

Hunk couldn’t do anything about it.

Lately, things had been surprisingly easy with Keith. Mind, Keith had always been a good guy, and Hunk had enjoyed spending time with him and getting him to crack smiles.  Part of it had been that he felt bad that Keith seemed left out, sometimes: he was close with Shiro, yeah, and he and Pidge seemed to be cut from the same cloth.  But Hunk spent so much time with Lance, and putting the two of them in a room together was like spraying a pair of cats with water. Hunk couldn’t blame Keith for maybe avoiding anywhere with Lance when he didn’t feel like dealing with that.  And since Lance had the miraculous ability to be everywhere he wanted to be, that could be hard.

It had been hard, though, to reach out to Keith.  He was so reserved.  Pidge had her secrets, and once those were out, she opened up.  Shiro was similar, and Hunk didn’t know if his tendency to keep things close to the chest was learned or natural, but he was much easier to draw into conversations and get talking.

Keith?  Never.  For most of the time Hunk had known him, he’d learned maybe five facts about him and four of those were from spending the night in his shed.

That had changed.  Same as Pidge, when Keith’s secrets were out, things were  _ easier. _  Whatever had happened during that trial, it seemed to have loosened Keith.  And it was so easy to see that Keith was nervous, and equally easy to rib him about it.  A couple drops of the words ‘purple’ or ‘fur’ and Keith was suddenly willing to engage, especially when he became sure it was fond.

Hunk didn’t care about that.  Not really.  Keith didn’t suddenly turn 8 feet tall and sprout pointy ears, nor did he start letting out cackling monologues about wiping out the weak.  He was just Keith, same as always, so why should it affect anything?  

He didn’t care, except that Keith cared.  He cared a lot.  So Hunk was going to let him know the best way he knew how - to poke fun until Keith could smile about it too, or at least know they weren’t hiding their feelings.

So Keith had finally opened up, had finally started to talk more.  To share things about himself.  It made Hunk guilty to think about it, but Shiro’s short disappearance had helped with that, too.  For a while, Keith had to confide in someone else or risk exploding.

And it had been Hunk he’d come to, even after Shiro returned.

Until now.

Now, Keith wouldn’t meet Hunk’s eyes.  He didn’t come to Hunk’s room to talk about training, or the places they’d visited.  He wouldn’t even be alone in a room with Hunk.

It hurt.  It hurt a lot, actually, and Hunk had only an idea what the problem was.  The last time they’d spent together had been nice.  It was Keith’s room, and it had been dark, Hunk idly playing with Keith’s pillow.  They’d chatted, talking about Hunk’s latest project (working with Coran for how to better manufacture more panels with the materials they had left over), and how Keith had spent the afternoon (convincing Allura spar him with her staff, while Keith duel-wielded his blades.  He was still clumsy with it, ambidextrous or no).  

Hunk had found himself staring at Keith as he talked, hands flying as he described how Allura had fought.  Had felt his lips pulling up, realized he was hugging the pillow close.  Aware that he must look as besotted as he felt.

Then Keith had met Hunk’s eyes and froze, cheeks going pink.

And since then they hadn’t talked alone at all.

So, Hunk had ruined it.  He’d made Keith uncomfortable, flown too close to the sun.  Whatever flowery metaphor he wanted for ‘screwed over a really awesome friendship because he couldn’t control himself’.

Really, Hunk should just apologize and let Keith know it wasn’t a problem.  That he wasn’t going to do anything about it, don’t worry, so maybe they could still be friends.

Except that he couldn’t manage it.  The idea paralyzed him, made the tips of his fingers numb and his heart pound.

Hunk had come a long way, since becoming a paladin.  But in this, he was still no good.  He was still too scared.

“No, Keith,” Hunk heard, and he froze mid-step before he turned a corner.  That was Shiro, in that quieter, rougher, easier tone he only used when he was alone with Keith (and lately, once or twice, when Hunk was in the room too).  “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not!” Keith snapped back, and Hunk didn’t have to see him to know he’d probably be scowling and crossing his arms.  “I can’t do that.”

Shiro laughed at that, both exasperated and fond.  “Really?  This is what you can’t do?   This is what’s impossible?”

There was a pause.  “Yes,” Keith replied, but it was a touch sulky.  “I can’t... I can’t deal with it.  So I’ll just stay out of Hunk’s way until it passes.”

Oh.

Well, then.  It wasn’t a surprise, but it still hurt to know Keith was definitely avoiding him, and it was almost certainly because he didn’t want to handle Hunk’s feelings.

Guilt squirmed in Hunk’s gut, and he felt bad that he’d let Keith run around for so long and not just let him off the hook.

He was supposed to be better than this.

So taking a deep breath, Hunk stepped out, arms tucked into his chest.  “It’s ok.  You don’t have to-  I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, and I promise my feelings won’t get in the way, or I won’t- look, I have it under control, you don’t have to feel weird just because of my crush.”

Hunk finally looked up, and saw both of them staring at him, utterly shocked.

Yeah, okay, jumping out from behind a corner and letting out something like  _ that _ was probably startling.  Oops.

Slowly, Shiro scrubbed a hand down his face.  “Keith.”

“I got it.”

“Good.”  Shiro shook his head.  “This is above my paygrade.  My theoretical paygrade.  You have fun.”  Shaking his head, he tossed a wave over his shoulder and stalked off.

Only-Around-Keith Shiro was so strange.

Nervously, Hunk shifted on his feet, and tensed despite himself when Keith walked over.  He hadn’t sounded  _ mad _ , at least, just bothered, and so there was no reason to be afraid, except Hunk had been afraid for days now because he’d ruined everything and couldn’t admit it, and then-

And then Keith kissed him.

Hunk froze, long enough that Keith pulled back before he could respond.  “Okay,” Keith replied, quietly.  Not shy, not really, but without his usual poise.  “I, uh- shit.  Kissing was easier.  Um.  I didn’t mean- I didn’t know you liked me.  I like  _ you _ .  I figured it out.  You’re the only one who- you made it  _ fun _ .  Funny.  To be me.  And I didn’t want to lose that.”  Keith sighed.  “Can we kiss again instead of me talking?”

Hunk stared.  Then he grinned.  “Yeah.”  And he leaned down, and Keith leaned up, and this time it wasn’t just a touch of the lips.  This time it was a  _ kiss _ , and it was perfect.

When Hunk pulled back, he was grinning.  “So, if you can’t talk well right down, would you say... cat got your tongue?”

“Oh, god, no.  Shut up,” Keith replied, but he was smiling too when he leaned in for another kiss.


	8. Shance, 5

_ my five year plan is to maybe go out for ice cream this afternoon? (Live every day like the ice cream store is closing.) _

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Lance blinked, started out of his thoughts.  He glanced over at Shiro, who had looked up from his book, brows up.  “Nothing’s wrong.”

Humming, the noise disagreement enough without needing to say it, Shiro stood up and walked over, parking himself on the bed next to Lance.  “Did something happen to bother you, this afternoon?  You were fine at lunch.”

Ah, hell.  Shiro wasn’t going to let this go, looked like.  Flopping sideways, Lance shrugged and rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder.  “It’s really not a big deal.  I just noticed you were quiet today.”

When Lance glanced up, Shiro’s brow was furrowed.  “I was?”

He was so honestly startled that Lance paused, unsure if he’d missed something.  “Not for most of it.  Just after dinner.  When we were talking about, you know, after.  Everything.”  Shiro stilled suddenly, and Lance’s eyes narrowed.  Okay, no, there was definitely something here.  “Everyone had something they wanted to do when we get back to Earth.  Even Keith wanted to mess with his sad shack.  But you never said anything.”

Shiro frowned, lips pressed thin.  The expression was somehow delicate looking, like the near-calm would shatter if Lance pressed too hard.  “I didn’t really have anything to add,” he admitted.  “At the time.  There was nothing that stood out off the top of my head.  Other than food, but that was already plenty covered.  Ice cream, mostly.”

There was something that tugged at Lance, about Shiro’s wording.  It took a moment to figure out the problem was ‘off the top of my head’.

“You hadn’t thought about it before?” Lance replied, trying for casual.  He didn’t think he managed, not really.  Especially when Shiro’s brows flagged up, expression flat.  “How about now, since you’ve had time to think about it.”

Shiro crinkled his nose.  “I didn’t really think more of it, though.”

“Seriously?”  Lance finally pulled back, facing Shiro properly.  “You haven’t thought about it at all?”

Eyes wide, Shiro shrugged.  “There’s so much else to do and think about that, well, no.  Not really.  Not since becoming a paladin, anyway.  I can think of a couple things I’d want.  A Japanese dictionary, for one.  You know how it is, when you just... blank on a word.  You know you know it, it’s just not there right now.”

Lance nodded, because he did know.  More than once, he’d frozen up, heart stopped, because he was  _ losing _ the language and no one else spoke it.

“Otherwise?  No, I haven’t given it too much thought.  There’s so much  _ else _ that I’m planning that I haven’t bothered.  It’s all theoretical, and what we’re doing next week is concrete.”

Expression flat, Lance dug his fingers into the covers of Shiro’s bed.  “Home is theoretical?”

Shiro blinked, head tilted.  “No.  Home is here.  Earth comforts are theoretical.”

Oh.

Maybe Lance should have picked up on that.  Keith was kind of similar, and he and Shiro had some kind of history and bond that Lance still hadn’t been able to pick apart and understand.  Even if their childhoods weren’t identical, they probably had elements.

Lance couldn’t understand not missing his family.  Being away from them was a physical ache, some days.  Remembering what he must have missed tugged at him constantly.

But that was better than having no roots at all.

“Fine,” he finally replied, wrapping one arm around Shiro’s waist.  He tugged him down, until Shiro obligingly laid out on the bed, and Lance could straddle him.  “Don’t talk about stuff you miss.  Talk about stuff you wanted to try.  Did you have a bucket list?”

Shiro considered, then gave a small nod.  “Yeah.  Mostly travel.  I got to see a bit for the press tour stuff for the Kerberos mission, but we never stayed long enough to enjoy those places.  And it wasn’t outside the US.”

Leaning down, Lance kissed him, then pulled back up.  “Good.  You get another one every time you name something you want to do.”

“I’m being bribed?  I feel like I should reject this on principle.”  But Shiro only smiled up at him, only a single line down the center of his brows marring his otherwise calm face.  “Why?”

“Because,” Lance replied.  “I want you to have a goal outside of Voltron.  Earth is a good place to start.  I don’t think I like you planning for the next month or so only, and only for battles in the future.  It...”  He paused, trying to figure out the word he wanted.  “I makes you do stupid things.”

Shiro finally relaxed the rest of the way and nodded, this time thoughtfully.  “I think I see what you mean.  Okay.  But don’t think- it’s not that I don’t care about anything else.  It’s that I don’t want to think about ‘if-then-when’s, if that makes sense.  I just want to make what I have work.”

Kissing him again, Lance’s brows went up.  “You can have both.  I know you’re ambitious.  Prove it.”

That started a laugh out of Shiro, and he nodded.  “Good point.”  He grinned and reached up, pulling Lance down for a longer, open mouthed kiss.  “Well, right now I want kisses, and someday I’d like to go to Antarctica.”

“I can prov- wait, what?  Why?  Shiro, it’s cold there.”

Shiro snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s not supposed to be that bad in the summer.  And penguins.  And cool research.”

Rolling his eyes right back, Lance obligingly rewarded him his kiss.  “You nerd.”

“Mmhmm.”  Sliding his eyes shut, Shiro arched up into the kiss, seeming to forget all about the actual discussion.  It might have been honest, it might have been avoidance.  Either way, Lance was inclined to let him. Shiro would do better if he had time to think on the subject.

They could live like the world would end today, but they could plan like they’d live forever.

Somewhere in the middle was where it all worked out.


	9. Shallura, 12, Explict-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note, this chapter contains explicit themes, though it is not out and out porn.
> 
> Yet.

_ It’s a full moon. I bought some rope and handcuffs to bring to bed tonight. (beware the moon.) _

 

When Allura got to her room, Shiro was already waiting for her.  He was in her bed, his back to the wall, and a pad resting on his propped up legs.

Assuming it was a novel or some data or plans, as it usually was, Allura dropped of her bag of, ahem, supplies in a chair.  A thought chased out the mice, leaving them to their own devices for the evening, and she half-threw herself onto the bed next to Shiro, just to watch the impact on the mattress jolt him.  

Head jumping up, Shiro rolled his eyes at her.  There was a time, not that long ago, when he would have refused to react to something so childish and not-quite-aggressive, refusing to let her see anything but a perfect soldier.  Where he’d duck his head and accept any action.

Well, there were days he accepted any actions now, just for different reasons.

On the whole, in their day-to-day, Allura appreciated his quiet snark.  The fact that he showed it was small but real proof that their relationship had changed.

Settling against his side, Allura rested a chin on his shoulder.  “Still working on your Altean?”

“No, I took a break on that after the program decided to demonstrate the word for ‘chase’.”  Shiro gave a delicate little shiver.  At Allura’s alarmed look, he paused.  “Oh, no, not- it didn’t bother me.  Just tired me out.  And it’s a surprisingly difficult word.  I’m actually not entire sure human tongues can make that noise.”

Allura’s smile grew.  “I can always help with some tongue exercises.”

Delightfully, Shiro’s cheeks pinked, blotching over his scar, which was a sure shine the tongue exercises he was thinking of didn’t involve kissing.  The expression was cute enough that Allura leaned up, pressing a peck to his cheek.

“Well, we’ll keep that in mind,” Shiro replied.  “For next time.”  Rather than reply, he shifted his legs so Allura had a better angle to see the pad.

At first, Allura though he was looking at a still image of the night sky.  Then she saw the faint moving shadows of clouds, and realized it was a live feed of one of the cameras outside the castle, pointed up at the moon.  It was large enough to be near perfectly circular, colored dusty red from either reflected light or the makeup of it: Allura wasn’t sure.

It was also perfectly full.

“Lovely,” she murmured.  And it was.  The outside of the castle was dark, and the planet was otherwise pitch black, so she could see the play of galaxies, painted across the night sky like water colors.  “Are you watching for anything in particular?”

Shiro shook his head.  “No.  Just thinking.  It reminded me of Earth’s moon.”  The fingers of his natural hand tapped around the thin edge of the pad, slow and thoughtful.  “I went there on a training mission, once.  Mostly a spot for rich tourists now.  But it used to be pristine, like this.  I’ve seen video.”  Allura only nodded, not sure where Shiro was going with this.  Maybe he was just rambling, but there was a tilt to his head that often meant he had something else to say, he was just waiting on the words.  Eventually, he continued.  “Some Earth cultures used to think the full moon affected humans.  That it could change you, in the right circumstances.  Into an animal, or just into losing your inhibitions.  In some languages, certain words for insanity have their basis in the moon.”

Allura’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned in a little, trying to get a closer look at the moon.  “Reflected light affects humans?  How?  Is it a problem?”

“I- oh, no.  It was a myth.  A long time ago, before humans fully understood the functions of the moon.  A superstition.”  Oh.  Allura nodded slowly, even if the idea was still foreign.  How was a , moon supposed to change someone?  “Honestly, I was just going to segway into something about losing inhibitions.”

Pausing, Allura huffed and looked up at Shiro.  “Did you honestly bring this in here and watch the moon just for a bad line?”

Shiro colored again.  “No?  I was just watching anyway, and it felt like- it’s not  _ that _ bad.”

“Awful,” Allura corrected.  “Besides, there are better transitions.”  She gently took the pad from him, setting it down safely on the bedside table, then threw a leg over his stomach to straddle him.  There was still a hint of color to his cheeks, and Allura leaned down to muse his hair, making it stick up wildly.  When she pulled back, he pouted at the treatment, but didn’t protest.  Not that Allura understood his objections - she rather liked him looking mused and ruffled.  Probably because she associated it with how he looked after a nice, long night, when he was finally dazed out into a good night’s sleep.

Setting his jaw, Shiro’s brows rose.  “Fine.  What should I have said, then, if my lines are so bad.”

Allura leaned back to grab her bag, pulling it over and rummaging around.  “Well, you said that humans believed some might turn into beasts, yes?”  When Shiro nodded, Allura pulled out a gag from the bag, and waved it in front of him.  “Sounds like we should be careful.  This can prevent you from biting.”

For a moment, Shiro stared.  Then he threw his head back, laughing open and wildly.

Maybe there was something to the full moon idea after all.  Allura rarely saw him so easy, even now.

“In those stories, it’s also common to tie the human up,” Shiro told her, grinning.

Reaching inside again, Allura pulled out a line of rope and grinned back.

They both knew the restraints wouldn’t really hold Shiro, if he was determined to get out.  That was part of the point, too: Shiro was doing this of his own will, because he liked it, and if that ever changed he could either free himself of flash two fingers in a ‘V’ shape, and she would release him.

But it was the act of giving in, of letting the rope stay, that was the important thing.

Leaning down, Allura dropped the items to cup Shiro’s jaw in both hands, pulling him up to kiss deeply.  “I think I’d like to see this beast.  Something wild to tame into my good pet.”

Flushing again, Shiro smiled.  “Well, if it’s a full moon, I suppose you’ll see.”  Then he twisted, arching up to bite her bottom lip and tug it back.  “But you should beware a full moon.  You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Taking his wrists in her hands, Allura tugged them up and over, pinning them to the wall next to his head.  “I think I can handle it.”

She did.

Several times.


	10. Shunk, 32

_ I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you. I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer. But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.) _

“Lance,” Hunk muttered, eyes wide.  He was reading down the list that Lance had shoved into his hands, growing more alarmed with each one.  “I can’t use these.”

Crossing his arms, Lance leaned back in his chair.  “Why not?  These are gold, dude, I promise.”

Hunk stared over at him, mouth open.  “Are you serious?  Who says these?”  He looked down, picking one at random.  “‘Do you want to be my boyfrien?  I left off the d because  _ you’ll get that later.’ _  Lance, I can barely read these without wincing, much less say them out loud.”

Snickering, Lance waggled his brows.  “You can’t say you don’t want to give him the D, dude.”

“That’s not the point!  And that’s not all of it, either.”  Hunk huffed, reading further.  “‘That shirt has to go, but you can stay.’  Ugh.”

“Actually, I insist you do that one.  Preferably at training, so I can see too.”  At Hunk’s bland look, Lance shrugged and grinned.

Sighing, Hunk put the list aside and grabbed Lance’s pillow, hiding his face in it.  This was the worst idea.  He had no idea what he’d been thinking, when he’d asked for help.

It was just...

Hunk was nervous.  Because the guy he wanted to approach was  _ Shiro. _  Who was gorgeous and smart and determined, and intimidating in a way that wasn’t purposeful.  So Hunk wanted this to go well.  He wanted to prep, to have the words ready that would tell Shiro how he felt and, maybe, if he was lucky, convince him to say he felt the same way.

So Hunk had gone to Lance, which is what he always did when he needed help being talked into something.

This time it may have been a mistake.

Hunk wasn’t sure if Lance wasn’t taking this very seriously - a possibility, considering he’d insisted several times already that Shiro was interested and this was a ton of effort for a surefire success - or if this was just his version of helping.

Maybe he should have gone to Keith.  At least he would tell Hunk flat out if this was doomed to failure.

“You wanna practice?” Lance offered, not bothering to hide his grin.  “You be you and I’ll be Shiro.”  He stood up, shoulders back and chest pushed out, and he brought up a hand to place a finger over the bridge of his nose.  “Hunk,” Lance half-barked out, voice much lower.  “I think you’re swell.  Let’s form love.”

Unable to help it, Hunk cracked up and threw the pillow at Lance.  It bounced off his head with enough force to make Lance drop the pose.  “Don’t!  I need to keep up a straight face when I’m doing this.”

“You sure? I feel like straight isn’t what you’re going for here.”

Covering his eyes with one hand, Hunk tried and failed to stop his chuckles.  “Okay, maybe not.”

Lance waited until Hunk had gotten control of himself.  “Fine, if that’s not gunna work, I’ll show you how it’s done.  You be Shiro and I’ll be you.”

“Oh, this is gunna end well.”

Fluttering his lashes, Lance brought up both his hands to his chest, the way Hunk always did when he was nervous.  “Shiro, do you like raisins?  How do you feel about a date?”

As Hunk burst into a new set of snickers, he decided he was wrong.

Lance had been the right call after all.

Okay, maybe not.  Because when Hunk actually had Shiro alone, all those lines they’d practiced suddenly ran away from his head.

“Everything okay?” Shiro asked, going from relaxed to worried.  No doubt he was reacting to Hunk’s increasing nerves.  Which didn’t help, because Shiro getting tense just made Hunk feel like he was screwing this up and hello, feedback loop.

Clearing his throat, Hunk nodded.  “Yeah.  I just wanted to say that, uh...”  He mentally scrambled, trying to think of at least one decent line, but totally blanked.  But Shiro was still staring, confused, so Hunk just blurted out what he wanted to say anyway.  “I just- you’re really beautiful and I want to kiss you.”

It came out louder than he’d meant, and the words echoed in the hall, making Hunk squirm.  Across from him, Shiro stared.  At least he’d lost that worried edge, but now he looked like Hunk had smacked him.

Which wasn’t making Hunk feel very good about this plan, right now.

Before he could backtrack though, Shiro’s shoulders slumped, and with that change of posture he didn’t look startled so much as awed.  “You think- me?”  He reached up, the movement looking completely instinctive, and touched the tips of his fingers to the scar across his face.

That was when it all finally  _ clicked _ .  Hunk was still nervous, but this was more important now that just telling Shiro he liked him.  This was about making sure Shiro saw himself the way Hunk did.

“Yeah, I do,” Hunk replied, finally stepping closer.  “I really do.  I was going to try and come up with a cool line, but none of them  _ worked. _  And I forgot them anyway.”  Reaching up, he gently took the hand Shiro had raised in his own, threading their fingers together.  “I just wanted you to know that.”

Shiro swallowed hard.  “Thank you,” he replied softly.  “That means a lot, considering who it’s coming from.”

Pausing, Hunk’s brow furrowed.  “Considering what, exactly?”

Lips curling up, Shiro pressed their foreheads together, and Hunk’s heart sped up, thudding in hopeful pattern.  “Well, you are a Hunk.”

“Shiro, c’mon, that’s  _ terrible _ -”

And then Shiro leaned in and kissed him, and Hunk forgot all about bad jokes.

Going to Lance for help had been a good call, but maybe Hunk should have just trusted himself to get it right.

Hunk would try to remember that.  But it was hard to remember anything right now, when Shiro’s fingers were grabbing onto Hunk’s shirt, and his lips were opening against his own.

He’d make a memo later.


	11. Shatt, 11

_ hey, i’m liking your photos at 2am because i want to make out. i’m texting you at noon because i want to make out. i woke up today because i (we don’t need words) _

 

This was getting desperate.

Matt didn’t know what else to do.

He’d tried everything in the book.  Matt sent Shiro little messages at all hours, especially during the non-emergency times when he knew Shiro was wearing his helmet, and wouldn’t be able to resist reading them.  He took photos of them all the time, and he sent the good ones to Shiro in the middle of the night, always with a caption.  He bumped their shoulders together, hung onto Shiro’s arms, rested his chin on Shiro’s shoulder (when he could reach).  He sat next to him whenever there was space, and occasionally when there wasn’t.

Matt had thrown in every ‘I want to make out with your stupid, gorgeous face’ signal he knew.  And Shiro was still painfully oblivious.

It didn’t help that Matt had nearly always done this with Shiro, because he’d always wanted to kiss his stupid face.  Even back when he’d wanted to punch it first.

Except now it wasn’t just them and Dad.  Now they had an  _ audience. _  One that seemed to have no better entertainment than mocking Matt’s game.

Given that the audience included  _ Lance, _ that was pretty galling.

Watching Shiro walk out of the room, following a call to go over plans with Allura, Matt groaned and flopped sideways against the couch armrest.  Because he was a glutton for punishment, he cupped one hand to his mouth to call after him.  “Hate it when you leave, but I love watching you go, Shirogane!”

Shiro’s response was to laugh and flip him off without looking back. A moment later, he was gone.

Immediately, there were snickers from Matt’s personal paladin peanut gallery.

“I like that one,” Lance told him, and Matt refused to turn around and see his smirk.  “But your delivery might need work.”

Scowling at the empty doorway, Matt sighed.  “My delivery is awesome.  Screw you.”

A hand patted him on the shoulder, and Matt turned around to frown at his sister.  “Hey, it’s not all bad,” she told him, expression far too solemn to be real.  “You’re teaching us a valuable lesson about how not to ask someone out.”

Grabbing a pillow, Matt tried to jam it into Katie’s face.  But her training kicked in, and she held on and ripped it out of his hand before he could manage, smacking him instead.

Nothing in the universe could go right for Matt Holt, apparently.

Other than not being in alien custody anymore.  Whatever.  Small potatoes.  

“You might need to switch it up,” Hunk agreed, not even trying to disguise the laugh in his voice.  “Just a bit.”

Matt threw up his hands.  “What else am I supposed to do, here?  I’m doing everything!”

“You could try actually talking to him,” Hunk shot back, brows up.  “I mean, that’s technically an option.  People sometimes tell other people facts about their feelings.”

Crinkling his nose, Matt shuddered.  “That sounds made up.  I don’t like it.”

“And this is why you’re hopeless,” Katie declared.

Lance tapped his chin, eyeing Matt from over Katie’s head.  “What if we dared you?”

Staring back, Matt squinted at him.  “What am I, six?”

“Well, twelve, guessing by your flirting prowess.”

“Shut  _ up, _ Katie.  If I’m twelve then you’re in elementary school.”

Keith sighed, loudly enough that Matt looked away from the escalating argument.  Which was good, because Katie was still holding onto that pillow and looked like she wanted to use it.  “You’re never going to get anywhere like that.  You want to know how other people got into bed with Shiro?  Because they went up and said ‘I want to sleep with you’.”

Lance scoffed.  “How do you know that?  You were just as surprised as we were with the smuggler chick.”

Glancing at Lance like he was being slow, Keith tilted his head.  “I  _ asked. _  And he told me.”

“You asked how he got laid?” Hunk repeated.  

Keith shook his head.  “No, I asked about what he used to do at those towns.  So he told me about some times.”

“That’s nice, but I can’t just do that,” Matt pointed out.  

“Why not?” Keith replied, desert dry.

Matt scrubbed over his face.  “Because-”

Because the idea made him want to bash his head into a wall.  Because even imagining it made his face heat up.  Sure, he could flirt and shove his feet into Shiro’s lap and demand to be carried, but all those were easy.  Matt could turn them into jokes.  They  _ were _ jokes.

That way, if Shiro ever was uncomfortable, Matt could just laugh through it, wave it off, and nothing would change.

Matt never wanted to back track.  They’d come too far.

“Matt,” Katie murmured, soft and sincere. The difference was enough to make him startle and pick his head up.  “Talk to him, okay?  It’s not just him that’s missing signs.”

Scowling, Matt bristled.  That sounded like pity.  “I wasn’t aware that laughing me off meant ‘take me in a manly fashion.’”

“Well, you are unwed,” Hunk murmured, because he was consistently The Best in Matt’s book.

“He opens all your weird messages,” Keith pointed out.  “Even during  _ training. _  We’ll be in the middle of an exercise and he starts snickering.  He doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

Lance nodded.  “He has all those caption pictures on his console.  I’ve seen him going through them.”

“He lets you drape yourself over him like a romance novel heroine,” Katie added.  “Which, for the record?  Horrifically embarrassing.”

Heh.

Tapping his fingers, Matt considered them all.  The looked serious.  They sounded serious.  Matt and Shiro having a falling out would hit all of them too, since they all lived in the same small (relatively) space, so it wasn’t worth it to fuck him over.

Maybe.

“Think about it,” Hunk offered.  “Because something’s going to give anyway.”

“It’s been fun watching, but it does get a little old.  Like those will-they-won’t-they TV shows.  Obviously you should, you just  _ won’t.” _ Lance added.

Matt crinkled his nose.  That stung.  He didn’t want to be like a bad, drawn out TV romance.

“I’ll think about it.  I have to figure out what to say.”

Keith snorted.  “Doesn’t really matter.  Just be blunt.  It’s the only way, when he has an idea in his head.”

....Words didn’t matter, eh?

Hm.

Later, when Matt had Shiro pressed against a wall, with Shiro enthusiastically matching every lick and nip, he reminded himself to thank Keith for his great advice.


	12. Shance, 16, Explict implicatons

_ Roses are red, Violets are blue, You can do whatever you want to me. (please do.) _

 

“Anything?” Lance repeated, brows up.  He cocked his head and looked up and down Shiro, like he was considering his options.

Okay, maybe that had been a little open ended.

Shiro shrugged.  “Most anything.  I’m pretty open to trying things.  Obviously some ideas are probably out.  Pain, for one.”

Luckily, Lance didn’t need that explained.  He just nodded thoughtfully, resting his hands over Shiro’s clothed stomach.  His muscles jumped, pure reflex, and Lance grinned.  “Sure.  And we’ll set up some safety stuff, no big.  I do have some idea of what I’m doing, here.”  He ran his hands up Shiro’s chest, inch by slow inch, and seemed to enjoy the way Shiro arched into the movement, following it like a cat being petted.

“We can talk about that later,” Lance decided, resting his weight on Shiro’s chest so he could lean down and kiss him.  It started off as a peck, but quickly deepened until Lance had Shiro’s mouth opened wide as he pressed in.  “For now, I just want to know if there are any places you don’t want me to mess with?”

Shiro blinked, then frowned.  “Um... not particular spots, no.  At least, not that I’ve found.  If there’s anywhere uncomfortable I’ll let you know.”

Nodding, Lance nipped along Shiro’s jawline, following it to the base of his ear.  “You’re okay with me undressing you, then?  What if I wanted to lick and suck and taste every inch of you?  Maybe spread your legs wide and tease you, would that be a problem?”

Shiro’s breath caught, and when Lance pulled back, he’d gone pink, his eyes wide.  Then he nodded, jerky and overenthusiastic.

Lance had done that.  Lance had done that to  _ Takashi Shirogane, _ whose maiden voyage had kept Lance up far past his usual bedtime.  Whose poster had hung on the way, after, until the terrible news.  After, it had been carefully tucked away into his desk.

And now Lance was getting to strip off his shirt and play.

As if he wasn’t going to take advantage of that.

Leaning down, Lance started on a scar that curved around Shiro’s shoulder, like something hand caught him while he was dodging.  He pressed a kiss to the tip, then traced his tongue along it, tasting the raised skin.

Shiro’s breath caught.  “Lance.  What are you-?”  He caught himself, swallowing hard, and his hands came up to rest on Lance’s hips.

“You said anywhere,” Lance replied easily.  “And that there wasn’t any place that was a problem.  Did you think of something?”

For a moment, Shiro’s hands worked, and Lance prepared to get off if the answered changed.  But finally Shiro shook his head, eyes heavily lidded as he watched Lance.  One hand detached from his hip to cup Lance’s cheek, then run his knuckles down the side of his neck.  There was confusion in his gaze, but mostly awe and fondness.  Maybe something close to love.  

It was a powerful, heady feeling.  And Lance wanted more.  So he ducked down again to suck on what looked like a puncture wound, right next to the curved slice in his shoulder.

Lance was meticulous, going over Shiro’s every scar.  He was nearly done when Shiro’s heavy breathing started to become squirms, and then outright bucks.  “Lance,” Shiro repeated, this time less confused and more plaintive.  “Are you going to  _ move?”   _ The hand still on Lance’s hip squeezed, and the other scraped down the line of Lance’s spine.

“Hmm.  Nope.  That okay?  Kinda into this.  This is what I want to do to you.  I want to make these positive, if I can.”  Lance watched Shiro carefully, biting his bottom lip.

Several emotions flashed over Shiro’s face, too quick to fully understand them all, but his expression settled into something gentle and warm.  “Yeah.  That’s okay.  You can do anything.  I trust you.”

Lance beamed back.  “Good.  Now flip over, we’ve got a whole other side to do.”

They didn’t get to the thigh spreading or fucking that night.  And that was fine.

Because later, when Shiro had Lance wrapped tightly in his arms, clutching him like he was something precious someone might try to take, he felt needed.  He felt wanted.  He felt adored.

Intimacy and trust didn’t need to be sex.

But next time it probably would be.


	13. Shatt, 15

_No no, we aren’t breaking up! You didn’t let me finish. I’m gay for YOU. (And I’m queer for math!)_

“We need to talk,” Matt told Shiro plainly.  “Honestly, this was long overdue.”

Pausing at the unusually flat tone, Shiro glanced back over his shoulder.  His shirt was still tangled around his arms as he yanked it off, and he let both hang in front of him.  “What kind of talk?”

Matt tilted his head up, jaw set.  It was an expression he usually used when he was steeling himself for something.  “One we should have had weeks ago.”

Well, that was straightforward.

Something about Matt’s expression made Shiro tense.  Maybe it was just that he was so unused to having it directed at him.  At least, not in months.  Years, now.

It was like Matt was trying to figure out how to break some bad news to him.

At first, Shiro’s mind whirled back, jumping through their day, and then the past few weeks. Was anyone hurt?  Had something gone wrong?  Why was Matt telling him this now, in this tone of voice?

The only reason Shiro could think of that Matt would say something now was if it wasn’t exactly business.  If it was just between the two of them.

Which meant there was something wrong with _them._  With their relationship.  Something that had been stewing for weeks, now.  Which would be most of the time they’d been together.

Sitting down on his bed, Shiro still didn’t pull his arms out.  Instead he met Matt’s eyes and waited.

Under Shiro’s direct gaze, Matt started to shift, moving his weight from foot to foot.  “Right.  Um.”  He paused, visibly looking for a joke, anything to defuse the heavy atmosphere.  After a few moments of struggle, he gave it.  “It’s not- it’s not a bad thing.  Not really.   Usually with us it’s awesome, but some stuff is just… it’s hard to deal with.”

Shiro’s heart sank, dropping as heavily as if it was made of metal too.

“Is it something we can work in?” He asked carefully, keeping his expression neutral.  No need to make this harder on them both.

Matt was free to end this anytime he wanted.  Obviously.  There was going to be no guilting, no carrying on, no making this a problem for either of them.

But it hurt, too.  Shiro had so little that was stable.  And Matt… well, stable probably wasn’t the best word for Matt.  He ran off with his ideas, running high on theories and anything that sounded fun.  And he fought back fiercely, passionately, refusing to let anyone treat him as anything less than an equal.  Not after what he’d been through.

Shiro admired it all desperately.  And more, he’d loved having that all aimed at him, that interest and curiosity and passion, the refusal to be shut out.  Matt had dug his way in completely.

Their relationship, however, was stable.  It was good.  They matched, they evened out, they fought but made up easily.

Or, so he’d thought.

Something must have shown through his expression, despite his best efforts, because Matt drooped.  “I don’t-” he winced.  “I don’t think so.  It’s not your fault, but I don’t think this is something you can fix, or else you would have already.  I’m sorry, Shiro.”  He sat down next to him, brow furrowed.  “It’s not going to change anything, you don’t have to worry.  I’m just too tired to keep going like this.”

Really, Shiro shouldn’t have been freaking out.  They were friends, still, and they could be friends after.  There was nothing wrong with that, nothing less about friendship.  He _knew_ that.  Or he thought he had.

Absurdly, horribly, Shiro’s eyes ached and heated, and he looked down at his lap to avoid meeting Matt’s eyes.  Then he saw his arms, still stupidly tangled, and he ducked down to pull his shirt back on.  It wasn’t like he could hide his scars from Matt again, but it made him feel less vulnerable.  As if the shirt could have helped at all.

Nothing he could fix, and not his fault.

The PTSD had been too much then.

That was fair.  Shiro hated dealing with it, and he didn’t have a choice.  What right did he have to ask someone else to manage it, too?

“I’m sorry,” he managed, mostly keeping his tone flat.  It didn’t sound right, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t do better right now.  He needed space to right himself and lick his wounds, then he could sound normal.

A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and heavy.  “You okay in there?  You, uh, you’ve kinda gone quiet.  I haven’t even said anything, yet.”

“You don’t have to,” Shiro replied, closing his eyes completely.  “I get it.  I’m not going to give you a hard time.  If you want, I can explain to Pidge and Sam.”

There was a moment of silence.  “Explain what?  What the hell do they care about this?”  

Shiro flinched.

The hand tightened, and then Matt _shook_ him.  It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was startling, and Shiro uncurled himself as he jumped.  “What the hell are you on about?” Matt asked.

Confusion warred with hurt.  Matt sounded honest, but the cruelty in making him say it and not just letting him take the hit felt like an insult.  Shiro tucked in on himself and looked away.  “Well, your family would probably want to know that we’re breaking up, so-”

“We’re _what?_  When did this- just because I wanted to change some things up?  The hell, Takashi?”

Shiro froze, then glanced back over.  “What?  No.  No!  I’m not-”  He paused, then swallowed hard.  “You’re not breaking up with me?”

Mouth falling open, Matt stared at him.  Then he leaned back, eyes distant as he mentally reviewed the conversation.   “You thought- well, fuck a duck, that explains a lot.  God, I was wondering why you got so nervous over a talk.  No, I’m not breaking up with you.  Why the hell would I?  I’m physically tired.  As in, we never sleep well in the same bed.  I was going to say we should start sleeping in our rooms together, so we stop waking each other up all the time.  God knows you don’t get enough rest as is.”

That was-

Oh.   _Oh._

Matt was right.  They were horrible bedmates.  Shiro woke up every time Matt shifted, and Shiro’s metal arm and tendency to twitch and move in his sleep had smacked his boyfriend awake more than once.  And left a couple of bruises that Shiro still felt awful over.

“You had to put it like that?” Shiro burst out.  “You were acting like this was some huge, awful deal!”

Matt threw out his arms. “I didn’t want you to feel bad!  You have nightmares so you toss and turn and defend yourself.  Hell, you practically fell over yourself apologizing for the time you thumped my chest.”

Scowling back, Shiro crossed his arms.  “You were hurt.”

“Oh, I had a little bruise.  I’ve left worse on you from hickies.  I’m not going to burst into dramatic tears because you left a mark on me.  It wouldn’t have hurt at all if that arm of yours didn’t weigh as much as a small child.”  Matt rolled his eyes.  “I’m very sorry for trying to take a change to our relationship seriously.  Won’t ever happen again.  I’m gunna sleep in my room after I bone you.  We good?”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded, short and jerky.  There were still so many emotions running through him - relief, frustration, anger, hurt, fondness - that had nowhere to go.  But that was fine.  Honestly, it was the smart option.  Under normal circumstances, Shiro would have been good.

There was another huff, and then Matt reached around, grabbing Shiro and tugging him into an embrace.  He dropped a kiss on top of Shiro’s head. “You absolutely moron.  I’m not dumping you. You kidding me?  Setting aside the whole ‘brilliant, amazing pilot, dorky leader and savior of the universe’ thing, you are a fine piece of ass.”

That finally seemed to break something in Shiro, and he let out of a bark of laughter.  “Well, glad we have our priorities straight.”

“Nothing straight about me when it comes to you, Beefcake,” Matt replied cheerfully.  “I’m gay as hell for you.”

Pulling back, Shiro offered Matt a smile, the tension slowly melting out of him.  “You’re gay for everything.  You’re gay.”

“Nope.  Not true.  I’m gay for your and queer platonic for math.  And paleobiology.”  Matt pressed their foreheads together.  “And you’re very pretty, but very dense.  It’s okay, I’ll be the brains of the operation.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Shiro replied, shoving Matt back so he laid out on the bed.  

Matt only laughed.  “Nope, I’m a dick.  S’okay, you like dicks.”  He shot Shiro a pair of finger guns, grinning.

So Shiro felt no qualms about pushing him off the bed and listening to his grumpy complaints.

But he also invited him back in as soon as he was up.

Shiro didn’t need for Matt to apologize.  Because he had his own ways of getting even.  So he pinned him down by his shoulders and smiled down at him, warm and sappy.

“Oh no,” Matt replied.  “Are you about to- Shiro, c’mon!”

“I love you,” Shiro replied heartlessly.  “You’re amazing and you’re passionate, and you’re one of the strongest, greatest people I know.”

“I’m calling the police, this is abuse.”  Matt’s face went blotchy red, and he squirmed under the direct gaze.  

Shiro only raised his brows, because what police?  “You’ve survived so much and came out the other side so strong.  You exceeded every expectation and you turned all those hurts into wonder at the universe, and I love you so much.  Maybe I won’t wake up to you anymore, but I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Covering his face, Matt whined.  “I give up. You win.  Stop!”

Shiro took pity, leaning down to kiss over Matt’s neck, then flopping out comfortably over him.  It took a couple of minutes for Matt to recover from the onslaught of sincerity, and when he looked down at Shiro his ears were still red.  “You know that all applies to you too, right?”

“Maybe,” Shiro replied, resting his chin on Matt’s chest. He had to curl up to stay on the bed like this, but it was worth it.  “But I still love you.”

Matt smiled and reached down, running his fingers through Shiro’s hair.  “Same to you, Starshine.”

And that was enough.

 _They_ were enough.

It was all Shiro wanted.


	14. Shatt, 46

_We are terrible for each other, and, yes, we are a disaster.  But tell me your heart doesn’t race for a hurricane or a burning building.  I’d rather die terrified than live forever. (mistakes aren’t always regrets)_   


**  
**

“Where is it?!”

Pidge froze, heart in her throat.  Next to her, Lance grabbed onto Hunk, who clutched the machine tighter to his chest.

Because Shiro sounded mad.

And okay, maybe they technically weren’t supposed to take any tech out of the kitchen.  Coran had been adamant about it.  But it really wasn’t worth the tone Shiro was taking, and they’d barely removed it ten minutes ago.  Hunk and Pidge just wanted to see if they could replicate it so they could all have drink makers in their room for the morning, to make getting up a little easier.  So it wasn’t worth that much ire.

Pidge turned around to tell Shiro that, taking a deep breath in anticipation of arguing.

But Shiro wasn’t there.  

Instead, his voice was coming from one of the side rooms.  From Matt’s room.

As it hit, Pidge shot Hunk and Lance a relieved smile, but then frowned.

Why was Shiro yelling at Matt?

“Yelling isn’t going to change my answer,” Matt shot back, voice low.  “It’s fine.  I put it away.”

Shiro snorted.  “No, you didn’t.  I would have seen it if you put it away.”

“It’s safe, whatever!  I put it away in- don’t you fucking touch my drawers, Shiro.”

Shiro barked out a laugh that sounded seething rather than amused.  Then something slammed shut, probably the drawer Matt had mentioned.  “Oh, sure, alright.  You can steal my clothes, but getting them back is out?  Sounds fair.  Perfect.”

Nudging them both, Hunk tilted his head back.  “We should go,” he whispered. 

That made Lance pause, and he shot Hunk an incredulous look.  “No way,” he breathed back.  “I wanna know what’s going on.  Don’t you?”

Hunk squirmed in place, which was proof enough he was curious.

Jamming herself against the wall so there was no way they’d catch sight of her, Pidge nodded.  She wasn’t leaving.  If Matt and Shiro were fighting, then she wanted to know about it.

“Don’t be an ass,” Matt shot back, low and angry.  “I’ll give it back when you’ve calmed down and you’re not stomping around like a jackass.”

“It’s not yours to pick when you give back!” Shiro snapped.  “You know what?  Fuck you, I’m getting it now.”

Matt growled, and there was a noise like a scuffle.  “No, you’re not!  Stay out or get out, Asshole.  You don’t even wear that fucking sweater, what do you care?”

“I care because it’s mine,” Shiro’s voice had gone low, something rumbling and dangerous to it, and Pidge leaned back from the doorway automatically.  It was a sound that came from his year in captivity, no doubt.  “And you took it.”

There was a slight pause, like Matt was processing that.  “Look,” he snapped, matching Shiro’s tone.  “Fine, whatever, I’m ever so sorry for your horrible sweater loss.  But I’m not here to take all the temper you can’t dish out to your little team, okay?  So calm the fuck down.  Maybe consider I didn’t just do it to fuck with you, hm?”

“Really?  Because it seems like most things you do are just to fuck around.”

“Screw you, Shirogane.  I stole the sweater because I was going to sleep in it, alright?  Because I’ve missed you at night.  But, sure, take it back.  Won’t be missing it tonight.”  There was a scraping noise, then the slam of something closing hard.  “Here you go, feel better now?”

Shiro sighed, but the noise wasn’t quite as furious anymore.  “You could have asked.  I would have said yes.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d notice.  You’ve never worn it.  And you didn’t mind when I took the slippers.”  Matt let out a long breath.  “So just don’t- fuck.  Alright, this is stupid.  C’mere, Cuddle Bunny.”

Snorting, Shiro let out a low laugh.  “Cuddle Bunny?  Really?”  But there was footsteps anyway, and then a soft noise.  “I shouldn’t have gotten in your face like that.  Sorry.  I can forget I’m…”

“Kind of intimidating now?  Yeah, we both know how I deal with that.  I’m sorry I took the shirt.  I know you don’t have a lot.”

Pidge closed her eyes, then took a deep breath.  Alright, seemed like everything was okay.  She didn’t get why they’d be screaming over a sweater in the first place, but when people dated their brains went weird.  It was documented fact.  Turning to the others, she tilted her head then nodded down the hall.  They should go.

Before Lance and Hunk could respond, Shiro chuckled.  “Is this the part where you make it up to me, then?”

“Always, baby,” Matt replied, laughing as well.  “Provided you give your own back.  C’mon, let’s work some of this off.  My heart’s still pounding.”

There was no response, and instead there was a thump against the wall, right next to where the three of them were hiding out, and then wet noises that were probably (hopefully) them kissing.

Agh, brother makeouts.  Gross.  Pidge started to walk, but a hand caught her arm.  When she looked back, Lance’s eyes were wide, and he nodded to the open door.

Oh.  If the walked past now, while the pair of them were so close, they’d almost certainly be spotted.

Uh oh.

From the door, there was a sound like a zipper being pulled down, and Shiro gasped.

Oh, no.

Face going bright red, Hunk pointed back they way they’d come.  “I changed my mind,” he hissed.  “Not worth it.  Let’s put the drink maker back.”

“Agreed,” Lance muttered, his own cheeks pink.  When Shiro let out a moan of Matt’s name, the color spread down to his neck.  “Now.”

Nodding, Pidge bolted down the hall, and hoped her blush would go away by next year.

  


At dinner, Shiro glanced over the three of them, his brow furrowed.  Matt sat next to him, leaning comfortably against his side, wearing the grey sweater they’d pulled out for Shiro a few weeks ago.  There was a curl to his lips that said ‘smug’.

Unfortunately, now Pidge knew it also meant ‘I got laid’.

It wasn’t fun knowledge.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked carefully, gesturing with his fork.  “You’ve been quiet.  Something up?”

Lance let out a snicker.  “It was, but I think it got taken care of.”

Hunk jabbed him in the side, but Lance only smirked.

Narrowing his eyes, Shiro frowned, like if he just concentrated he’d figure out what Lance was on about.  

“Just a project we gave up on,” Pidge replied, shooting Lance a bland look.  “You know how we hate to give up.”

The suspicious look didn’t waver, but Shiro finally nodded.  Matt shifted against his side and reached out with his fork, pausing an inch from Shiro’s plate.  When he noticed the move, Shiro pressed a kiss to the top of Matt’s head and nodded, letting Matt enthusiastically spear a piece of meat, as though her brother didn’t have the exact same thing on his plate.  The expression on Shiro’s face was fond, damn near besotted.

They were such disasters, honestly.

Well, at least they deserved each other.


	15. Shatt, 40

40 and shatt?

_I laugh along but inside I know that it’s true: Being in love is totally punk rock. (quiet kisses are so hardcore)_

 

Matt flopped back against Shiro’s chest, snuggling in comfortably.  It made the bowl of snacks in his lap jostle, nearly falling off the couch of the rec room, but Shiro reached around Matt’s waist to catch it before they could lose anything.

In the dark of the night cycle, lit only by the light of the movie Matt had put on, there was something very normal but magical about the moment.  It reminded Shiro of hushed conversations at sleepovers when he was young.  The thrill of a dark room lit by flashlights and screens, whispered and vulnerable words, things that wouldn’t be shared by the light of day.

Which was probably why Shiro had offered a bit more of his past than he was usually comfortable with.

And that was why Matt was giving him shit, now.

“I can’t believe I missed your edgy hipster phase,” Matt groaned, flopping his head back on Shiro’s shoulder.  “You would have been so cute when you thought the world was against you.  My little nerd heart couldn’t have taken it.  Dressed in all black, lots of chains, still knew Star Trek.  It would have been such a problem.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and took a handful of the snacks.  It had a texture like dry cereal and a flavor like rare steak.  Oddly, it had become one of his favorite things they were able to regularly pick up in space.  “I didn’t dress in all black.  Lots of plaid, though.”

Laughing, Matt shook his head.  “Such a waste.”

“I’ll go back in time and tell my 17 year old self that,” Shiro replied dryly.

Matt paused to crunch on his own piece, then shook his head.  “Don’t joke about it.  Our lives are weird, Shiro, you might cause it on accident.”

Good point.  Shiro frowned and nodded.  “Still, you recognize that I wasn’t actually cool, right?  I thought I was cool.”

“You would have been cool for 17 year old me. I had a Garrison officer for a father, Shiro, my teenage years were all about flipping off the establishment. I would have been drooling.”  Matt put the bowl on the table, then twisted around so they were chest to chest, noses inches apart.  “Our gay love would have been so punk rock.”

Shiro let his head fall back as he laughed, resting a hand on the small of Matt’s back.  “Our gay love is still punk rock,” he decided.  “Also, universe saving is pretty punk rock.  Not as cool as much as making out, though.”

“Exactly,” Matt replied easily, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck.  He pressed a warm kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth.  Then he pulled back, considering.  “Would you have been into me?”

Tilting his head, Shiro hummed.  “I’m not sure.  On one hand, you like a lot of the same stuff and you’re smart as hell, which I’ve always liked.  On the other hand, I was so pretentious as a kid.  I don’t think I liked anyone my age.”  He ran his hand up and down Matt’s back.  “But I probably would have made an exception for you.”

“Good.” Matt replied simply.  He kissed Shiro again, this time more softly, and when he pulled back, the pale blue light from the screen softened his face and eyes.  “Woulda blown your little mind.”

“This is a lot of talk from the guy who hated me at first,” Shiro pointed out dryly, but he couldn’t even manage a teasing heat.  Instead he buried his fingers into Matt’s longer hair, combing through it.  

Matt shrugged. “Well, that was ‘cause you were being all robot and ‘Yes, commander’.  I wouldn’t have jumped on you like that if you weren’t.”  He kissed Shiro again, still gentle.  “And I got over it fast.”

Brows up, Shiro snorted.  “A month is fast?”

“For me, yes.”

Shiro couldn’t argue with that.  Getting an idea out of Matt’s head when he’d already decided was damn near impossible.  Besides, he didn’t really want to bicker about the theoretical interactions of themselves as teenagers.

Instead, he pressed forward, kissing Matt again.  He didn’t open his mouth or try to deepen it, content with the soft touches of their lips in the soft lighting of their movie.

Because despite what he’d thought as a teenager, things didn’t need hard edges and starkly drawn lines to be real.  There was something true in those quiet, vulnerable moments, something genuine about casting pale light into shadows and seeing the vague shape of what was there.  Just because it hurt didn’t make it better, didn’t make it tangible.  Some pains could resonate, but so could some pleasures.

Cuddling his boyfriend while a Disney movie played was just as hardcore as someone screaming into a microphone in a smoky bar he wasn’t supposed to be allowed into.  It was about them being honest.

And while he was being honest-

“I have no idea what we’ve been watching,” Shiro told Matt, lips curled up.  “Didn’t even catch the title.”

Pulling back, Matt groaned.  “Seriously?  Dammit, Shiro, I’m trying to educate you.”

“I was doing very important research on your mouth,” Shiro replied, primly as possible.  “You should know about that.  Don’t geologists get to lick the rocks?”

Matt sputtered, and Shiro couldn’t help grinning.  “Okay, first of all, you say ‘get to’ like it’s some kind of privilege.  Secondly, not usually, because some rocks are poison, and you are terrifying me right now.  Thirdly, not paleogeology, I am not licking fossilized rocks ever, super gross.  That’s how you destroy things, Shiro, saliva is acidic.”  He paused, then glared down at Shiro.  “You are not making me want to make out with you right now.”

Shiro tried to flutter his lashes.  It didn’t work well.  “Pretend I’m a rock.”

It was totally worth nearly getting smothered with a pillow for the look on Matt’s face.

Besides, he made it up to him later.


	16. Shatt, 4

ooohh, Shatt for "let's hand out TO THE DEATH" please??

(Wondering what this is?  This is the 800 Followers Special!  Find out more [here](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com/post/155862589397/50-a-softer-world-prompts).  These requests are now **closed.** Don’t wanna see these because there’s a lot of them coming over the next couple of weeks?  Blacklist ‘800 Followers Special’.  Hate reading on Tumblr?  These will be going on AO3 as ‘This Paradox Place’ a couple of days after posting.)   


* * *

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_i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (let’s hang out - TO THE DEATH)_

“For the record,” Matt said.  “This is not my fault.”

Hanging upside down, Shiro crossed his arms.  “Really?  And how’s that?”

Matt paused, frowning.  He twisted, the momentum enough to let him sit up and float upright.  “I’m working on that.  Give me a minute.”

Shiro only snorted in response.

Because, alright, maybe the gravity had gone out while Matt was messing with the settings of the training room.  He’d been trying to make some very minor, no I do not need Coran leave me alone, adjustments.

Except now he wasn’t making adjustments at all, because he was floating about ten feet off the ground, well above where he could reach the console.

Matt strained, kicking his feet sulkily, but he didn’t move any closer.

“Any luck with your excuse?”

Shooting Shiro a bland look, Matt scowled.  “I’m considering the theory that you sabotaged me.  You fiend.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response.  Instead he watched with a flat expression as Matt continued to strain.

Finally giving up, Matt eyed him.  “You gunna help?”

“No.”

Scowling, Matt took a swipe at Shiro, trying to smack his shoulder.  In an instant, Shiro blocked, shoving Matt’s arm away with surprising force.  The momentum of it made him rotate in the open air like a rotisserie chicken.  Eventually, inch by inch, he log-rolled until he hit Shiro’s chest, and his bulk stopped him.

Matt stared at Shiro.  “I might be sick.”

“You survived lift-off without vomiting, you can survive this.”  But Shiro ran his hands up and down Matt’s back anyway, soothing him and holding him close.  He looked utterly unbothered by the fact that his head was facing the floor.  Ass.

In hindsight, Shiro had never been bothered by gravity changes.  Maybe it was that Black Lion quintessence, but he’d immediately taken to moving around in free fall like a duck to water.  Alternatively, it might have been just another one of Shiro’s ridiculous, improbably proficiencies.  Regardless.  It was irritating then, and it remained irritating now.

“You know, I was going to kick off you to get to the console,” Matt mused.  

Rather than reply, Shiro gave a distracted hum.  He seemed to be focused on the contact between them, now, and his hands hand found Matt’s hips as they continued to slowly circle.

Sighing, Matt picked his head up and gave Shiro a peck on the mouth.  “I know I’m a foxy, foxy minx, but you’re gunna have to focus, Starshine.”

“I am,” Shiro replied.  “Just not on that.”

“What happened to this being my fault?”

Shiro’s brows jumped up.  “Oh, it is.  I just don’t mind right now.”  He leaned in for another kiss, lapping against Matt’s lips in askance.

… Screw it.  They hadn’t been doing anything important.  And he couldn’t deny there was something heart pounding about kissing Shiro while they were both hovering off the ground, the hint of constant, dizzying motion to match the way the kisses always made him feel.

This?  Matt could do this for the rest of his life.  Wanted to.  And that sounded close enough to love to him.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, the door to the training room opened, and normal gravity engaged.

They both crashed to the ground, Shiro grabbing on and twisting so they were horizontal rather than dropping head first.  But their mouths were still connected, and on impact Matt felt his lips split on Shiro’s teeth, and heard Shiro’s back crack against the floor.

They bounced with the impact, and Matt landed on his side, his hand coming up automatically to stem the blood flow.  “Fuck,” he muttered, then winced when that made his lip ache all the worse.  “Fuck.”

“The hell were you two doing?” Katie asked.  “Did you turn off the gravity to make out?”  You can do that in your rooms, don’t do it in the training room.”

Shiro groaned, picking himself up and rubbing the back of his head.  “It wasn’t planned,” he offered, then winced and pulled his hand back.  He glanced at Matt, then froze.  “You- oh, ow.”

“Head wound, they bleed,” Matt offered, tensing as the explanation hurt him anew.  “Gunna… med lab.  You too.  Concussion.”

Now, Katie started to look just a hint guilty.  “Oh.  Uh, You need help?”

“I think we’re alright.  I’m not concussed, just bruised.”  Shiro stood, and the way he wavered in place gave lie to the words.  “I’ll let you know what Coran says.”

Katie nodded distractedly, and she hovered for another moment.  “You’re really okay?”

When Matt stood as well, Shiro wrapped an arm around him.  At first, Matt bristled at the treatment, because he was cut, not helpless.  But the heaviness against him made him suspect it was for Shiro’s sense of balance.  “We’re fine, honest.  You’re right, it was stupid.  And Matt’s fault.”

“Hey,” Matt protested, but then winced.  No fair.

“If you need any help, just call,” Katie offered after them, as they started down the hall.

Later, as Matt sat next to Shiro, who was bent over a toilet and losing his lunch, his own face bandaged up, he mused that this wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his evening.

But he’d also be happy sitting here and petting Shiro’s back to help him through his nausea for the rest of their lives.  Especially when it meant Shiro would be pressing warm kisses to everywhere but lips later.

Maybe love was both.

Matt could work with that.


	17. Sheith, 18

_I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m no good)_

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

Shiro dragged his eyes away from the doorway Keith just exited and frowned at Pidge.  “Hm?”

Brows up, Pidge crossed her arms.  “Keith.  Talking.  Eventually, maybe even soon.”

“Keith and I talk all the time,” Shiro replied easily, meeting her gaze dead on and keeping his expression calm.  “We were just speaking.”

But Pidge scowled back, unamused at his answer.  “Not alone.  Not about anything that isn’t mission related.  Not even at dinner.”

Damn.  Shiro considered how long he could keep arguing with Pidge, but the flash of her eyes showed she was at the end of her rope.  Pushing it could lead to spending the evening struggling to find a shower that would use hot water.

So he sighed and shrugged.  “We’ve both been busy,” he offered, as if that wasn’t a terrible excuse.  “And Keith knows he can talk to me anytime.”

He just chose not to.

He hadn’t since Shiro had returned.

“Didn’t peg you as the passive type,” Pidge drawled but, still distinctly unimpressed.  “Just gunna wait for him to make the first move?  Maybe he’ll send you a note in English class.”

Unable to help it, Shiro bristled.  Pidge seemed to realize she’d hit some kind of sore spot, because she took a cautious step back.  “I’ve tried to speak with him.  He made it clear he has no interest in trying.”  The words were heavy in his mouth, awkward and badly formed.  It felt like they cut against his tongue.  “He finally adapted to me being gone and now he’s not interested in going back.  I understand that.  So, please, leave it.”

For a long moment, Pidge considered him carefully.  “It was hard for him, you know.  When you were gone.  There was just.. Nothing.”

Shoulders slumping, Shiro closed his eyes.  “I know.  I understand.  I know exactly what I did to him.  And now I’m giving him space because that’s what he wanted.”  Something bubbled in him, black and poisoned, and it came out as a bitter laugh.  “It was actually easier when he was calling me his brother.”

That was-

It was far more than he should have said.  But what did it matter, if Shiro had been pining, once.  Pidge wouldn’t think it affected him, and it didn’t change anything.  

Keith hated him now, because Shiro had promised and promised and broken everything.  He only needed to stay, and he could never manage that.  Something always tore him away.

So, Shiro couldn’t blame Keith for cutting his losses.  For hardening his heart against Shiro.  He wasn’t worthy of that trust or that affection, not when he kept hurting Keith.

“That’s…” Pidge trained off, wincing.  “I didn’t know you thought that way.”

Shiro just offered a pained half smile, shrugging.  “It is what it is.”

And if he sounded fatalistic and knocked down, Shiro deserved it.  He’d earned the right to sound like the universe had beat him up, because it had.

…Now he was getting self-pitying.  

“Thank you for your concern,” Shiro told Pidge, eyes falling shut.  “I do appreciate it.  I promise it won’t get in the way of the team.”

Pidge let out a quiet, frustrated noise, but Shiro couldn’t manage to open his eyes and face it.  “Fine.  You do that.  I’ll do something productive.”  A hand settled on his shoulder, startling Shiro into opening his eyes.  “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right, either.  Giving up doesn’t suit you.”

This time, Shiro barked out a slightly less dark laugh.  “I just want to respect what he wants.”

“Nah, you leave that to me.”  With that, Pidge patted his shoulder again, then stalked off.

Shiro watched her go, considering trying to stop whatever the hell plan she’d just concocted.  In the end, it wasn’t worth the effort.  She’d learn the hard way, like Shiro had.

There were some thing he couldn’t spare his team from.

This seemed to be one of them.

“Hey.”

The greeting made Shiro jump, and he snapped to his feet, nearly dropping his pad to the ground.  He stared at Keith, who gazed back from the doorway, head ducked so his bangs fell into his eyes.

“Good afternoon,” he replied, schooling his voice into formality.  It was so hard with Keith.  Shiro didn’t want distance.  He wanted intimacy.  He wanted contact and quiet moments.

Once upon a time, those things had been painful.  Now he knew he’d been spoiled.

Something about Shiro’s tone made Keith flinch back.  Not formal enough?  He wasn’t good at it, in this context.  It was hard to slip into that diplomatic tone around his team.  But he owed it to Keith to do better.

Except Keith didn’t move away.  He stepped forward, stopping in front of Shiro.  “We should talk.  Pidge told me some things.”

Oh, god.

Pidge had been straightforward?  Shiro had expected some sort of ridiculous plot involving changing schedules and locked doors until they got along, right out of a silly movie.  Not for Pidge to just repeat everything he shouldn’t have said to her.

Swallowing, Shiro took a step back.  “I’m not sure what she said,” he replied carefully.  “But whatever it was, it shouldn’t be a cause for concern.”

“It’s not- stop that!”  The sudden demand was startling enough that Shiro froze, eyes wide. “Stop acting like I’m going to attack you!  I’m not- what’s with you?”

Shiro took a shaky breath.  “No, you won’t.  I’m sorry, it’s not about-”

“Stop apologizing!”  Something in Keith’s expression cracked, raw and wounded.  “I’m not- I wasn’t trying to- it wasn’t ever like that!”

He wasn’t allowed to back away, wasn’t supposed to apologize.  So Shiro stayed quiet, holding the pad close, and waited.

“Look, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have blew you off when you came back.  It was just-” Keith looked around the room, like he was casting for an explanation or a place to hide.  Then he barreled forward.  “It was hard.  When you were gone, I had to… think about us.  In ways I hadn’t.  And I figured some things out and I wasn’t prepared to deal with them when you got back.  But I shouldn’t have made you think I hate you.”

Shiro paused, finally meeting Keith’s gaze more directly.  “You don’t?”

Letting out a pained noise, Keith sighed.  “Shiro, I can’t hate you.  Ever.  Okay?  You could run away and go full Zarkon and I still wouldn’t hate you.  I just suck at… words, and feelings, and all that crap you usually handle.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Shiro pressed, brows coming together.  The pain and stress of the past few weeks started to gather, becoming a storm, a temper he tried to reign in.

Keith ground his teeth, his fists working by his sides.  “I just… realized some things.  While you were gone.  And we thought you were gone-gone, so I never thought I’d have to deal with it, and so I’m adjusting.  That’s it.  That’s all me.  Just give me some time to figure out how to be normal around you again.”

But the storm, once formed, wasn’t quite that easy to ignore, and Shiro eyed Keith.  “Let me guess.  You realized it’s not worth it, right?  You figured you were better off.  So, no, don’t bother trying to fake it.”

Keith’s eyes flashed, and he took another step closer, pushing into Shiro’s space.  This time, Shiro stayed still, not mirroring the movement.  “What the hell are you on about?”

“Every time you get used to me I vanish again.  Why keep trying?  All I do is scare you.  So, fuck it, don’t even try to pretend, it’s not like I can’t figure it out.  I can tell, so just be honest, would you?  Just tell me the damn truth.”  Shiro shrugged elaborately, hands clenched around the pad.

Letting out a frustrated snarl, Keith reached out and grabbed Shiro’s shoulder.  “The truth is you’re an idiot.”  And then he pulled Shiro down into a vicious, biting kiss.  “That’s what I’m dealing with.  Give me some time to adjust so I can pretend it’s brotherly again and you won’t get freaked out.  You stupid, pushing, fatalistic ass.”

Shiro stared.

This time, it was Keith’s time to freeze and swallow.  When he started to move back, Shiro grabbed him in return, and pulled him into a kiss of his own.

For a moment, Keith stayed utterly still, like he wasn’t sure what was happening.  Then he renewed his grip and tried to pull Shiro closer, despite the fact that they were already flush.

Then, there speakers came out with a crackle and spouted a celebratory little tune, and the lights flashed different colors.

Yanking away, Keith scowled.  “Pidge!”

There no was no response, but Shiro could just hear her laugh.

Keith started to pull away, like he was going to go find Pidge and take his revenge, but Shiro held on.  

“Deal with her later.  Deal with me now.”

“You’re really-” Keith frowned, considering.  “I thought you saw me as a brother.”

Shiro snorted.  “You were the one who said that, not me.”

Expression dazed, Keith nodded slowly.  “Oh.”  Then he leaned up for another kiss, which Shiro happily provided.

Shiro would never remember that awful time apart with fondness.  But he could be glad for this.

Snorting, he pulled away, lips quirking up.  “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped, and pulled him in for more kisses.

Shiro did.


	18. Shallura, 39, NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit content below

_ There should be a word for a threat that is also a promise. Because that is what I want you to hold me down and do. (I love you) _

 

“Shiro,” Allura called.  Her tone very nearly sounded normal, except for an edge of steel underneath, hidden by a layer of velvet.  

Uh oh.  He was in trouble.

Schooling his expression, Shiro tilted his head up.  “Yes, Princess?”  His tone was even, expression mildly curious.  He straightened his shoulder just slightly, like he was waiting for an official request.   Picture perfect innocence.

Except by now Allura knew his tricks, because her eyes narrowed further.  Shiro managed not to fidget as he turned on the couch, facing her better, and set aside his pad.

“I had a very interesting conversation with Keith,” she told him, still mild.

Ah, hell.  Shiro had told Keith to keep today’s training between them, but it had been a casual reference.  It wasn’t the sort of serious request that would make him think he should keep it from Allura, especially if she asked if he’d seen Shiro that afternoon.

Frowning softly, Shiro tilted his head.  “Interesting how?  Is something wrong?”

Eyes flashing, Allura leaned down suddenly, pressing into his space.  His head tilted up automatically to track the movement, and they stopped less than an inch apart, her gaze nearly burning.  “You were told to rest today.  It wasn an order.  One you agreed to.  And you know the consequences of disobeying an order.”

“I did rest,” Shiro replied, still in that same tone.  Which was a mistake, because if he really was innocent, he would have reacted more.  Damn.

Allura pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him slowly back until he was sprawled out on the couch.  Part of Shiro found it more than a little messed up that their games bled into his command like this, that they used their sex life as a way of making him make good decisions (or not, as the case may be).

Mostly he didn’t care, because he was already starting to harden, just from this.

“You trained with Keith,” Allura told him, each word enunciated pointedly.  “When I ordered you to take the day off.”

Really, Shiro didn’t have an excuse.  Keith had asked if he had a chance to run over some drills, and Shiro had accepted automatically.  Nevermind that they’d just gotten back from a big battle yesterday, and that he and Allura had celebrated their victory long enough to leave him sore in other places.

Mouth dry, Shiro just swallowed.

“My room,” Allura continued, eyes narrowed.  “You have ten minutes.  I expect you prepared.”

Shiro’s breath left him.  He nodded, short and jerky.  

“Be a good boy.  Go.”

Shiro went.

 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Shiro stripped down, military quick, and it was a testament to his arousal and rush that he didn’t stop to at least fold them over a chair.  He was on too much of a time crunch.  Instead, he climbed onto Allura’s bed and laid down on his stomach, arms out in front of him and legs splayed wide.

Then he waited.

The waiting was the worst part.  It was pure anticipation, and Shiro’s entire body prickled with the knowledge that any moment, Allura was going to come through that door and see him naked and spread out, and she was going to take her due.

Shiro bit his lip against a moan and pressed his face into the pillow.  He wanted to rock against her silken covers, but he wasn’t that desperate.  Not yet.  Plus, there was too much a chance that she’d walk in while he was still rutting, and in a mood like this it was liable to work against him.

At the ten minute mark, Allura didn’t walk in.  By now, Shiro knew better than to relax his position.  She liked to make him wait longer, and if she wanted to, she’d check the cameras to make sure he’d been on time.  But it was rarely necessary, because Shiro rarely missed the deadline.

It wasn’t until about five minutes past that Allura finally walked in.  She was silent, at first, and Shiro was aware of her gaze like it had a physical presence on his body.

Stepping over, Allura ran one finger down the length of Shiro’s spine, humming consideringly.  Shiro’s breath caught audibly, and she paused.  Even without seeing her face, he knew she’d be smiling.  She liked it when he got vocal.

Just as well Shiro it took effort to get him loud.  It made it worth both their whiles.

“How long did you train?” Allura asked.  “Honest, now, because I will check later.”

Shiro hadn’t planned on lying, but he treat made his breath catch. “About forty five minutes.  I think.  I didn’t time it.”

The honesty earned him another stroke down his back, this time with her entire palm.  “Well, then, you owe me forty five minutes until you’re allowed to come.  I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

“Yes, Allura,” Shiro replied.  Maybe it was backwards, that when she was actually ordering him like this, it was her name instead of her title.  But Shiro prefered it, now that he was more used to using her name to her face.  Sex was between them, not their roles.

One more stroke, and then there was the sound of Allura rummaging through her bed’s storage, and then the sound of a cap opening.

Even the quiet noise made him bite the pillow to keep from moaning.

It was going to be a long forty five minutes later.

 

Later, once he’d earned his orgasm, and then licked Allura to her own messy reward, Shiro rested with his head on her thigh and a smile on his lips.  Her fingers ran through his hair, quiet and contented.

He’d done well.  He knew that because she’d told him so many times after.

“Allura?”  He murmured.  In response, her finger came down to trace over his bottom lip, and he gave the pad a gentle kiss.  “I love you.”

Even without looking, Shiro could picture Allura’s smile.  “I love you too, my paladin.  Though I wish you would listen better.”

“Hmm,” Shiro replied, then yawned.  “You do make disobeying fun.  I love your threats.”

“My promises.”

“Same thing.”

Allura tapped his lip again, but didn’t argue.


	19. Pidge, Lance and Hunk, 9

_ CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP NOT SURE HOW TO STOP (WHY STOP) _

“So, you guys have tested this, right?”

Lance pulled on his helmet, adjusting it so the HUD display lined up perfectly.  It was hooked up to the little speeder bike that Hunk and Pidge had whipped up, showing all the information he’d usually look at the dash for.  It was pretty slick.

“Sure,” Pidge replied cheerfully, clapping him on the back.  “Right now.  We’ll let you know how it goes.”

Hunk winced at Lance’s bland look.  “We tested that it runs right.  It’s not gunna blow up on you or anything.  Can’t promise the handling is great, yet.  That  _ is _ what you’re here for.”

Nodding, Lance offered the best grin he could.  “And you know that’s what I’m best at.”

“That and Keith will tell Shiro,” Pidge replied.  “But yeah, you’re our pilot, Tailor.  Let’s go threading.”

Lance considered, head tilted.  “Nah.  Doesn’t work.”

“Really doesn’t,” Hunk agreed.

Pidge just stuck out her tongue at them.  “You ready?”

Nodding, Lance sat down in the speeder.  It ran on the some repulsors as the castle tech, but the designed reminded him of those older motorcycles he used to see in antique magazines and shows.  “Yeah.  Let’s do it.”

Pulling up a pad, the tip of Hunk’s tongue poked out as he concentrated.  “Okay, you’re all set.  And... 3...2...1... Go!”

Lance shot forward.

Way faster than he thought he would.

The hallways of this floor had been emptied out, creating a circular path around the length of the castle.  In just a few seconds, Lance was already coming up on a wall and a turn.  

He screamed as he leaned into the move, trying desperately not to turn into a Lance pancake.

“Uh, Lance, how fast are you reading on your helmet?” Hunk’s voice asked.

Shit, right, they could hear him.  Biting back more shrieks, Lance cleared his throat.  “Uh, 50 Kilometers an hour?”

“My display says 30.  That’s not 30.”

“That’s definitely not 30,” Pidge replied.  “Hmm.  Wonder why.”

Lance turned again, this time with a little more control.  “Can you wonder why  _ after _ we make sure I don’t die?”  He pulled back on the breaks, which didn’t do much for him.  It sputtered, and his ride rocked under him, until Lance leaned forward again to right himself.  “Anytime now!”

“Can you got- oh.  Uh oh.”  Now Pidge did sound worried.  “There should be an emergency break on the front display.  Do you see it?”

Why hadn’t they thought to look for this  _ first? _   Lance bit his bottom lip as he searched, turning with the next hall.  “Um, I don’t- wait, there!”

“Be careful, it’s going to-”

Too late, Lance had already engaged it.

Immediately, the speeder bucked like a live thing under him, sparks flying up from the back break.  He did finally start to slow, but not as fast as he’d like around the final turn.  

“Okay, we see you and- you okay?  Lance, you’re about to-”

“Fall, I know, I know!”  He tried to right himself, but the front of the speeder wouldn’t go in a straight line and he nearly threw himself off.  “Okay, everyone out of the way, don’t get close.”

Pidge scrambled back, but Hunk only braced himself.  Before Lance could repeat the call, Hunk shot forward, catching Lance around the waist.  They both went rolling forward in a painful heap, but the bike went on without Lance, finally clattering to the floor and tumbling into the wall in a horribly loud crash.

Sitting up, Lance groaned, then scrambled to his feet.  “Hunk?  You okay?”

“Yeah,” he returned, sitting up slowly.  “Ow.  Bruised.  I don’t think I need the pod, tho- woah!”  Hunk nearly fell back down when Lance threw himself against him, hugging him close.  “Hey, seriously, I’m fine.  I’ve got padding, you know.”

Jogging over, Pidge looked them both over, gaze sharp and critical, no doubt remembering every place that looked sore or that either of them favored.  “Okay, so, next time.  Break check.  Do that better.  You alright, Lance?”

“You know me,” Lance replied, still breathless.  “They used to call me the party.  ‘Cause I never stop.”

Pidge groaned.  “You’re fine.”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hunk agreed, laughing.  “C’mon, let’s go get the speeder and see if we can fix it.  You still our pilot, Lance?”

He paused, slightly surprised they still wanted him after the crash.  It hadn’t been his fault, but Lance had expected them to want to switch it up after.  There were three pilots after all.

But no, they both turned to look at him, eager and concerned.  They wanted him, they just weren’t sure he wanted to do it again.

“For you two?  Always.”


	20. Shatt, 25

_ This town isn’t big enough for the both of us. Let’s run away together! (Let’s join a street gang! Is NASA recruiting?) _

Shiro glanced back at Matt, lips pulled down.  “You okay?”

“Unclear.  Please try again later.”  Matt’s eyes were dark and his face nearly expressionless as he ran his fingers down Shiro’s bare back.  This time, the touch was clinical, rather than intimate.  Or, it was supposed to be, but Matt wasn’t doing much with the actual bandaging and checking.  Instead, he was just looking.

Frankly, it was starting to get unnerving.

“How later is later?  Because I could use an answer now.”

Matt finally met his gaze and took a deep breath.  “I’ll be okay.  It’s nothing I haven’t seen on you before.  Or on Katie, or Keith, or Lance or Hunk.  Just another collection of bruises, not even worth shoving you in the pods for.”

This was such an unusual mood that Shiro turned around frowning at him.  “What we do is dangerous,” he agreed. “But it’s for the good of the-”

“Nope, do not.”  Matt jabbed a finger into Shiro’s chest.  “Don’t give me that crap.  I don’t want to hear your ‘the universe needs us’ bull right now.”

Rubbing the spot Matt had hit, Shiro frowned.  “What else am I supposed to say?”

Matt rolled his eyes.  “How about ‘you’re absolutely right, Matt, we’ve already given years of our lives for this and we don’t need to keep doing this indefinitely.  This castle is too small for us, let’s roll out.’”

The entire tirade only made Shiro lean back, brow furrowed.  “I don’t sound like that.”

Matt threw up his hands.  “That’s what you have to say?”

“I don’t know what else  _ to _ say.” __ Shiro shook his head, still baffled.  “You’ve never... you want us to give up?  The universe needs Voltron.  We’re it.”

Huffing, Matt fell back on the bed, eyes closed.  “It doesn’t have to be you,” he replied, then held up a hand before Shiro could speak.  “If you try and explain the stupid lion bond to me again I’m going to kick you in the nipple.”

“Ow.  Please don’t.  Explanation rescinded.”  Shiro sighed and settled down next to Matt, throwing one arm over him.  “I’m sorry.  I know it’s hard to see, and it doesn’t help that you’re handling a lot of our minor injuries.  But I don’t want to leave, Matt.  This is.. There’s nothing in the universe that’s going to suit me as well as being a paladin.  Even if I still worry about the job I do, it’s... it’s like I build up the perfect career for it without even knowing.”

Matt crinkled his nose.  “Fate talk also gets you kicked.”

Nipping his shoulder, Shiro snorted.  “I’ll just stand up and you won’t be able to reach anywhere.”  But before Matt could do more than bristle, Shiro leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.  “Thank you for putting up with me.  Maybe instead of running off to... I dunno, defect to become a space pirate crew or something, we just... I’ll talk to Allura about taking a day or two, and we can hide out and give everyone some time.  And you and I can disappear in the castle for a bit and not worry about anything else.”

Matt was silent, then he finally turned over to face Shiro.  “That might help,” he admitted softly.  “I just need some time where I see you whole, for a change.”

“I am whole,” Shiro replied.  “Bruises and cuts don’t make me broken.”

Wincing, Matt nodded.  “Yeah, fair point.  Just... yeah.  I get you don’t exactly schedule this stuff, but if we got some time, I’d appreciate that.”

Shiro pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “I’ll do my best.”  Then he reached over to cup his cheek.  “This castle should be big enough to keep us occupied for a couple of days.  Or at least isolated enough that they can’t find us without tracking my suit.  That’d be nice.  No interruptions.”

“I still say I can just ignore them and keep going,” Matt replied playfully, but he turned to press a kiss to the palm of Shiro’s hand.  “Yeah.  Just barely big enough.  For now.  Someday it won’t be, and then I’ll kidnap you and your lion and your slippers and we’ll spend some time anywhere but this castle.”

Shiro smiled.  “Someday.  Baby steps.”  He let the silence hang, hand still resting warm and heavy on Matt’s cheek.  “Also, I’m bleeding on your bed.”

“Shit!”  Matt shot up and made a face.  “C’mon, I just washed those.  Get off, you damn sieve.  Let me patch you up for the millionth time.”

“And I love you for it,” Shiro replied.  “In general, too.”

“See?  A sieve.  Just leaking this sappy, sticky shit all over.  Quit it before I bandage your mouth shut too.”

Laughing, Shiro tilted his head.  “But then how will you kiss me?”

“I’ll kiss elsewhere.”

“Promise?”

“For you, Starshine?  Always.”


	21. Shallura - EXPLICIT

_ Fun things to yell during sex: Anything. (he is risen.) _

 

If Allura had to pick a favorite part of sex with Shiro, it would be the challenge.

Not that he was a challenge to put up with, or to convince to try something.  Both of those would have ended this quickly, because Allura didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with that.  No, the challenge was in getting to the place they both wanted to be, but that they had to earn.

Shiro was good at following rules, at listening to directions and cues, to intuiting what she wanted.  Too good, maybe, well trained by his military into easy, comfortable obedience, and a natural inclination to want to please.  But it was a purposeful give, slipping into a role he enjoyed and was close to the truth, but wasn’t 100 percent real.  It was Shiro playing at what he wanted.

Which wasn’t necessarily his fault.  Shiro wasn’t trying to put on an act of truth.  He didn’t want to do it.  He just didn’t know how to let go on his own, how to just give in and take.  It went against his nature, his training, his mind, even when he desperately needed it.

It took careful effort for Allura to bring Shiro to that place, until he sunk into the quiet moment where his thoughts left and he just  _ acted. _  Pure, trained instinct.

Shiro was at his most beautiful when there was nothing in the world but where they touched and her words.

He was also at his loudest.

“Allura!”  Shiro gasped, digging his heels into the bed as his whole body arched.

Allura took a moment to be thankful that her quarters were separate from the other paladins and Coran’s.  The walls were relatively soundproof, but a good yell could break through.  If there was the possibility of being overheard, Allura would never get that, which would be a shame.

Humming in acknowledgement, Allura stroked his cock again, watching with open fondness as he thrashed his head back and forth, working out his energy and desire.  “Yes?  Did you need something?  What do you want, Shiro?”

Words weren’t beyond Shiro yet, but complete thoughts seemed to be.  He whined, blinking rapidly as he tried and failed to think clearly.  “Want... want to...”  His breath came in heavy, wet pants, and he slowly focused on her.  There was open adoration there, in the shine of his eyes and flush of his cheeks.  He looked at Allura like she held the key of the universe in her palm, like the words out of her mouth held galactic truths.

On days like this, when little things had gone wrong, when Shiro was tense and grinding his teeth, he usually wanted to worship her.  He liked being able to do something right, to earn compliments and praise in a way that felt real.

Allura was never inclined to deny him.  But no without her due.  “Say it, lovely.  Use your words.”

Whining again, Shiro grit his teeth.  “Want to taste you,” he managed, each word rough and just a bit too loud for his normal tone.  “Want you.  Please.”

That was plenty.  He’d done enough.

Shifting to the internal, self-lubricating kind of internal genitalia that Shiro seemed to especially prefer in these moods, Allura spread her legs in invitation.  “You may.”

He lunged forward, mouth on her in an instant.  And to her delight, he didn’t  _ stop _ talking, the puff of his air and vibrations of his voice wonderful on her sex.  As he spoke, his mouth and face moved, and when he pulled back for air, Allura could see the shine over the bottom half of his face, matching the feverish, awed shine to his eyes.

“Thank you,” he sighed, barely sounding like it was addressed to her.  He seemed to be speaking on autopilot, now, like the request for his voice had broken some kind of damn.  “Perfect, so good.”

Allura ran a hand through his hair, fond and warm.  “You’re very good, that’s right.”

Shiro moaned against her, deep like it came from the center of his chest, and she shuddered from the sudden burst of pleasure.  When she focused again, he was watching her once more, like her pleasured expression was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

Hmm, maybe she was wrong, before.  Maybe that gaze was her favorite part.

As Shiro groaned her name again, Allura held onto his hair and gave up that line of thought for the moment.  She had plenty of time to pick a favorite.  For now, she was happy, so long as he didn’t stop talking.

(He didn’t)


	22. Hance

_ If they invented a way to actually have sex over the internet you and I could use that glorious technology for internet hugs. (You know, when I wasn’t using it for sex.) _

“It’ll just be a couple more days,” Hunk told him quietly.  “We’re about finished with their shielding, and after that Keith and I will head back.  When are you getting back to the castle, do you know yet?”

Propped against the headboard of his (admittedly very nice) guest bed, Lance sighed to the pad in his lap.  “I don’t know.  If all goes well, maybe a day after you?  Allura gave me a ton of notes on them, so no one should get unduly offended.  But you know how it is.”

Hunk made a sympathetic face, but Lance only knew that because he knew Hunk so well.  On the little pad and the tiny camera, it mostly looked like he smushed up his expression.  It was still a cute look, and Lance wished he could lean in and kiss his crinkled nose.

Lance wished a lot of things about Hunk right now.  First and foremost that they were on the same planet.  But duty called, and sometimes those duties were different.  While Pidge worked her latest stealth adaptations to the castle, Hunk and Keith helped a group of allies fend of a small fleet of scavengers and keep them away.  Lance, on the other hand, was working on increasing their Alliance, with Shiro acting as a bodyguard.

The first couple of times it had been fun to have Shiro hovering darkly over his shoulder while he talked to diplomats.  And Lance enjoyed spending time with Shiro, who’s dark sense of humor tended to rear up on quieter missions.

It wasn’t the same.  Not even close.

Lance was far too used to sharing a bed.  It was too cold when he was alone, no matter how many blankets he used.

“You’ll do great,” Hunk replied.  “You always do.  Watch you beat us back.”

Cracking a grin, Lance nodded.  “Damn right.  And the outfits here?  They’re really see through on the top part.  Maybe I’ll bring you something.”

Hunk waggled his brows, a tiny movement on the screen.  “For me to wear or for you to wear?”

“Both.”

“Perfect.”  Hunk grinned, but it melted into something sadder, something softer.  “That’ll be after I get to hug you again.”

Lance’s heart swelled and cracked at the same time, and he resisted the urge to rub his chest to soothe it.  It wouldn’t do any good.  “Speaking of, Mr. Mechanical Genius, how is it that we can video chat over millions of light years but we can’t hug?  I’m waiting for my upgrade.”

“Oh, shoot,” Hunk replied fondly.  “Slipped my mind.  I’ll get right on that.”

“And then we’ll use it to have sex.”

Hunk choked, and Lance beamed.  It was gratifying as hell, that even after years of this he could still surprise Hunk with a well placed comment.

Once he had his coughing under control, Hunk shot him a sly look.  “Not first?”

Lance shook his head.  “Nah, hugs first.  I want them more.  Also, politeness.”

Resting his hand on his cheek, Hunk watched him fondly.  “I want them more too.  Especially right about now.  I’m used to hearing your breathing, it keeps throwing me off.”

Lance nodded and sighed, leaning back heavily against the wall.  “Same here.”

There was a long silence, comfortable but melancholic.

“Just another couple of days,” Hunk repeated.  “And then hopefully we’ll have a day to relax.”

“Tell that to the galaxy,” Lance shot back.  “Can we not plan?  When we plan it goes wrong.  I’ll mention a day off after to Shiro and see what he says, but otherwise...”

Hunk’s brows rose, but he didn’t comment on the probability changes between planning a day and not planning a day.  Yes, Lance knew it was superstitious, and he didn’t give a damn.  It worked, and he wasn’t going to screw over a day to get to hold his boyfriend.

Instead, Hunk nodded agreeably.  “Think Shiro will go for it?”

“If we can get Pidge to have him do the test piloting for her new additions, yes.  Otherwise, maybe not.  He’s going a little stir crazy.  Very scowley.  Makes for a good bodyguard but I think he’s kind of hoping for an attack now.”

Hunk laughed.  “I’m lucky, Keith gets to get out all his energy fighting pirates.  Which is good.  He doesn’t feel like he should help and I don’t have to supervise him.”

“Hmm, I still pick Shiro,” Lance decided.  Even if he and Keith got along better these days, spending too much time alone in a room with him was still a recipe to make Lance want to punch something.  Someone.  Someone wearing red.  “Hey, one more thing.  Guess what?”

“Chicken butt?”

Lance paused, then huffed.  “Okay, fine.  Now guess something else.”

Considering, Hunk finally shook his head.  “I give up.  What?”

“Love you.”

Hunk visibly melted.  “Love you too.”

Nodding, Lance scooted down until he could pull the blankets over himself.  “Good.  Now tell me about your project.  I need to get to sleep soon if I’m going to finish this up in record time.”

“Oh, and I’m your sleep aide?  I see how it is.”  But Hunk cleared his throat and pulled over a notepad.  “Okay, so, when we got here the thing was just in pieces.  I know they’ve been cut off from resources but someone was not taking care of their radiation system, I swear...”

Lips curled up, eyes closed, Lance could nearly feel Hunk’s arms around him as he ranted.

It wasn’t quite the same, but it was close enough.


	23. Shiro and Sam

_ I don't know how to make things right. So I'll keep pretending nothing's wrong. (you know that I'm not good) _

It was a rare occasion that Sam saw Shiro’s bare chest and back.

Part of that was opportunity.  It was deeply unusual to find Shiro in any kind of undress these days.  He kept himself habitually covered from neck to toes, only his hand and face showing skin.  Even that wasn’t a perfect cover.  Not only was there the long, painful looking scar that crossed Shiro’s face, something he could never properly hide, but there was also the smaller marks.  Little nicks and pockmarks on his hand, one thin sliver of a cut that edges out past Shiro’s sleeves.  Ones that aren’t obvious, can’t be seen unless you’re looking.

Sam wasn’t always looking, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

By now, he was mostly used to the face scar, despite the way that it aged Shiro by a solid half a decade.  And Sam knew the scar alone did that - once, in a moment of pained curiosity and insomnia, he’d coaxed one of the castle’s computers into producing something like photoshop, and saw for himself.  Under the scar, he looked how he used to.  Even the white hair and pale skin don’t do so much to age him.

That, Sam could adjust to.  None of them have any choice, least of all Shiro.  It becomes the new normal quickly.

But the boy’s chest and back are different.  Sam never got the chance to, and each time it’s a smack to the face.

The differences were stark, not just in how Shiro looks but how he acts.  Sam would have never called him body shy before.  Formal, certainly, and it took him a while to relax into Matt’s more tactile nature, but not  _ shy. _  Never curling in on himself, like he feared the eyes on him. 

Then there were the moments Shiro forgot himself.  Usually during training, either against Allura or one of the gladiators.  Something would click, and Shiro would  _ fight. _

And that was a scar of its own, too.

It was times like now, when Shiro’s whole chest was exposed from a strike, when Sam could see every single scar in vivid detail, that the guilt choked him.

There was no reason someone so young should fight like that, or have that many scars.

And it had happened under Sam’s command.

Leaning back against the wall of the training room, well out of the way and behind Shiro’s line of sight, Sam sighed to himself.  It was hypocritical of him to have this bother him.  He’d told all of the paladins more than once that they only controlled what they did, and he’d scolded Shiro numerous times that because something happened under his orders didn’t make it his fault.

It was a lot harder to put into practice.

This hadn’t been Sam’s first command, either.  He wasn’t tentatively figuring out the rules in extraordinary circumstances, at least at first.  It had been a relatively straight-forward mission, if a historic one.  Go to Kerberos, test the samples, come back.  Downright idyllic.

It grated, somehow, that Shiro had been the one to notice the Galra first.  That he’d been the one to tug Sam and Matt’s arms and coax them to try and run.  That Sam hadn’t been the one to see the danger and try to create a plan of action, even if that was just  _ move. _

Maybe it had something to do with whatever mythic qualities the Black Lion seemed to find in Shiro.

Maybe that was an excuse.

Sam felt like it was the latter.

Then he’d been deemed too old, too weak, and he’d been pulled from the boys, from his  _ son, _ and thrown into a cell to await transport.

It had been Shiro, again, who made the plan and took action. It had been him who saved Matt from being killed.

If he were talking to himself across a couch, Sam would remind himself that he hadn’t had the opportunity.  That on Kerberos he’d been doing his job, and in captivity he’d been locked up across the ship.  

Sam was  _ grateful. _  Painfully so, but also all too aware that he hadn’t been the one to stand up and truly  _ command _ when things went wrong.

Then, they’d both thought Shiro was dead, sacrificed to save Matt.  And the thought had burned his son alive for so long, a fury and a hurt that Sam could only try and help soothe him through.  That wasn’t being a commander.  It was being a father.

Had Sam known that Shiro lived, it might have been harder to deal with.  That a young, brilliant pilot, seemly destined for his own command some day had died so young and in such a noble way... it had been a tragedy.  

But for Shiro to live and suffer had been a nightmare.  Just one Sam didn’t know he was living.

So when the Voltron crew showed up, when they were folded in and became part of the defenders, Sam had thought  _ ‘he must hate me now’. _

Sam had done none of the things he should have.  Had met none of the standards that Shiro had matched.  He’d failed as a commander as soon as it became harder than he’d expected.

Except Shiro hadn’t.  Somehow, bafflingly, Shiro still looked up to him.  Despite the scars, despite the stories Sam could read into them (whip marks, puncture wound, heat burn, acid burn), Shiro still shyly admitted that it was Sam’s leadership he tried to emulate.

It was astonishing.

It was an honor.

Sam still had no idea how to tell Shiro how thoroughly he’d been surpassed.

Finally bringing the gladiator to a crashing halt, Shiro stood up and panted, shaking his head to unstick his bangs from his face.  “Time?”  He called, and Sam started, thinking he’d been spotted.  But the computer obediently repeated the time it had taken back to him, and Shiro let out a frustrated groan.

That was when he turned, spotted Sam, and froze.

“Sam!”  Shiro’s shoulders curled in, no doubt suddenly aware of his bare chest again.  “I didn’t see you come in.”

“It was a few moments ago,” Sam replied easily.  “You were a bit busy.  Was there a problem with the time?”

Shiro sighed, slumping.  He loosened somewhat, forgetting to cover himself as he was distracted.  “I’ve been at it all day with no improvement.  If anything, I’m getting worse.”

Brows jumping up, Sam peered past Shiro’s arm to look at the smoking, twitching robot.  “And that could have nothing to do with being tired, could it?”

“No,” Shiro shot back, but he gave a sheepish smile.  “Alright, maybe.  But you don’t need to make excuses for me.  I should be doing better.”

It felt like every day, Shiro offered up one of these opportunities.  Sam could point out that Shiro had done better than anyone else could have expected him to, than Sam had managed even in lesser circumstances.

But he didn’t.

And it wasn’t that Sam was afraid to.  He understood his mistakes.

It was that the comparison, having to deal with Sam’s guilt, would only hurt Shiro.  He didn’t deserve to have to wrestle with that on top of everything else.

So Sam only smiled fondly and offered a different, kinder truth.  “You’re doing well.  Not every improvement has to come in a day.  You’ve earned to go rest and relax, today.”

Shiro didn’t need the permission.  He wasn’t obligated to listen to Sam’s advice, by blood or by command.

But the way he lit up when it was offered spoke volumes.

“Alright,” Shiro replied, tone casual.  “I’ll pick it back up tomorrow.”  He offered it like he had to exchange his break with more work, as though he hard to earn it.

Sam let him.  It made him feel better, and it was something they could work on another time.

“Go wash up,” Sam replied instead.  “Dinner will be soon.”

Pausing, Shiro glanced at the console display, then winced.  “Right.  I’ll be there shortly.”  And he set off at a trot for the showers.

So, no, Sam was no longer a commander.  He was no longer in the chain of command, and he had no desire to pick it back up even if it was offered.  That part of his life was in the past, and Sam wasn’t exactly at peace with it, but he wasn’t fighting either.

Besides, there were people more suited for it, no matter their age.

What Sam could do was offer his hand and lighten the load where he could.

And it was his honor to do that.


	24. Shance

_ i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (let’s hang out - TO THE DEATH) _

“Stop,” Shiro demanded, his hand splayed wide over his face to hide his eyes and grin.  “Oh, it hurts, stop.”

Lance continued on mercilessly, biting back his own laughter.  He sprawled back on the bed in their guest quarters, arms still splayed out from where Shiro had playfully shoved him down.  “Nope, we can’t take it back now.  I had to come up with something why you were wearing those sunglasses.  ‘My bodyguard is a little photosensitive today because he got an eye exam’ isn’t exactly intimidating.”

“Laser eyes?” Shiro demanded, and then lost it, slumping sideways into the bed and snickering against the covers.  The sunglasses somehow managed to stay perched on top of his head, though probably because his bangs had tangled into it.  “I’m surprised you didn’t say I was hungover.”

Lance just grinned back, reaching over to carefully unthread the white strands.  “I would never do that to your reputation,” he replied, lips curled up.  “Besides, it works out.  Now they’re afraid of you.  Which is what my bodyguard is supposed to do.  Intimidate.”

“It’ll be worse for my reputation if they ask me to demonstrate,” Shiro pointed out.  “I don’t think this is what Allura had in mind when she put us on diplomacy duty.”

Letting out a dramatic huff, Lance shoved his nose into the air.  “Well, if she objects, she can come to talks next time, and we can run around blowing things up in the castle.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up.  “Would you wear her battle suit?”

“Oooh, you like that?  Maybe I’ll wear the armor undersuit instead, it’s basically the same thing but black.”  Once Lance had the sunglasses untangled, he slid them on his own face, grinning.  “I’d like to point out again that you managed to find mirrored aviators galaxies away from Earth.  That’s dedication to the aesthetic.”

Shiro snorted.  “Found nothing.  I made them on the castle.”  When Lance’s brows rose above the tops of the shades, he shrugged.  “Once you get a handle on the machinery it’s not hard.  And we already had sunglasses modeled.  It was just a matter of tweaking it.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, actually,” Lance mused.  “I get so much crap for keeping up my appearances, but you get a free pass when you do stuff like this.  Not fair.”

Chuckling, Shiro rolled, so he was leaning over Lance.  “Well, they can give you all the crap they want.  I like it, and more importantly you like it.”  He bent down, pressing a kiss to Lance’s lips.

Lance rolled his eyes, but there was a pleased hint of color to his cheeks.  “That wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

“I know,” Shiro replied.  “It was a statement of fact, anyway.  Your face is so soft.  It’s nice.”

“You know, I could still mix you up something to try yourself.  Flawless skin is not out of reach.”

Shiro’s brows jumped, expression bland.  “I think I missed the boat on that one.”

Frowning, Lance tilted his head.  “Why- oh.  Eh.  Your skin can be silky smooth around the scar.  But yeah, moisturizing probably won’t do much.  But it’s dashing, at least.”

“My very dashing snoring.”  Shiro flopped back over onto the bed, curled up to face Lance.  

These moments were the best.  Even when they were separated from the rest of the team (and Shiro felt that pull in the back of his mind, same as the one for his lion.  He should have maybe been concerned at how co-dependent they all were, but nah), Shiro still felt calm and comfortable.

Scooting forward, he pressed his face into Lance’s neck, kissing softly.  “I have a thought.”

“Sounds dangerous.  Is this a ‘might kill us but might work’ thought?”  Lance ran his fingers through Shiro’s hair, squirming ticklishly as Shiro’s nose brushed his neck.

Shiro shook his head, which incidentally brushed his nose against Lance’s sensitive spots, making him buck.  Heh.  “No, this is a ‘when we get back to the castle’ thought.  I want to ride you while wearing the aviators.”

Freezing, Lance let out a low groan.  “You- dammit!  You couldn’t have waited to drop that?  I’m not going to think of anything else for the rest of the talks.”  Shiro only laughed, hiding his smirk in Lance’s shoulder.  He had to get his kicks somewhere.  Bodyguard duty involved a lot of standing around and scowling, and Shiro spent a lot of that time bored out of his skull.  If he knew his sunglasses were making Lance squirm internally, that’d help a lot.

“Call it revenge for the sunglasses thing,” Shiro replied.  “And if I have to laser eye something, you better be ready with that gun, Eagle Eye.”

Lance flapped a hand.  “Yeah, yeah, bitch and whine.  I’ve got you covered.”

Shiro nodded, settling in comfortably.  He threw his natural arm over Lance’s chest, tugging him close like a body pillow.  “I know you do.  I trust you.”

Silence settled over them, comfortable and heavy as a blanket in winter.  Shiro started to doze, despite the fact that they were lying sideways on the bed.  

Right before he drifted off, Shiro swore he felt fingers through his hair, and a soft murmur whispered into the top of his head.  But he was asleep before he could be sure.


	25. Matt/Shiro

_ We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.) _

Matt sighed and leaned his head against Shiro’s shoulder.  “You know, with how big this lion is, I feel like you could at least fit a cot in here.  It’d make this a lot easier.  Besides, how many times have one of you guys been stuck in a lion overnight?  Foresight.”

Groaning, Shiro closed his eyes.  “If you’re going to complain about this all night, I’m going to tether myself to the outside of the lion and sleep outside.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad.  Sleeping in zero Gs wasn’t the worst night’s sleep I ever had.”  Matt pulled off his glasses and scrubbed over the bridge of his nose.

Shiro pulled back to look down at him.  “Good.  Then you can sleep outside, glad we sorted this out.”

Whining, Matt thumped his head against Shiro’s shoulder.  “Stop being mean to me.  I’m providing helpful criticism.”

“You’re one helpful comment away from being ejected from my lap.”

Matt stuck out his tongue but subsided.  “I can’t believe there are real life Reavers.”

Snorting, Shiro shook his head.  “Nah.  These things will only eat us.  That’s not scary enough to be Reavers.”  

There was no feed to outside to look to see what was happening outside, but Allura’s panicked hails had been more than enough to terrify Shiro.  He’d never heard her half so worried in the middle of a firefight, but one mention of the  _ Kull _ and she and Coran had nearly shouted over themselves mid-mission.  

The instructions were clear.

Turn off everything.  Make the lions as dim as possible, activating specific shields.  Stay very, very still.

_ Kull _ evidently, were a kind of lifeform that lived out in open space.  They didn’t move of their own volition until they sighted prey, so tracking them was damn near impossible.  The only warning was a long-distance sensor picking one up.

If they caught sight of anything more more quintessence than the average planet-dwelling lifeform, they would attack and tear it apart.

Even if the castle and lions weren’t obvious targets, Allura and the paladins all counted as above average.

All they could do was wait for the  _ Kull _ to drift in and out of sensing range.  It was likely to take several hours.

Which meant their scouting mission was cut short, and they were all dead in the water, not daring to communicate and use enough energy to catch the  _ Kull’s _ attention.

So they were, understandably, a bit tense, and it promised to be a dull, slow night in the lion.  Even their connection felt dim, curled up and made small like a cat curling into a box that shouldn’t have fit it.

It was a strange feeling, and the  _ lack _ , along with worry, was making making him a teensy bit irritable.

Unfortunately, it made Matt antsy and nervous, meaning he was going to prod.

Not a great combination.

“What are you picturing?” Matt suddenly asked.  “When they talked about it.  They never said what it looks like.  So, what did you come up with?”

Huh.  Interesting question.  “Um... a giant grub, actually.  I don’t know why.  Maybe the mouth thing?  And it’s gross.”

Matt shivered.  “Yeah, nasty.  Kinda close to me.  I was thinking the sandworms from Dune, actually.”

It was such a  _ Matt _ answer that Shiro snorted.  “Of course.”

“Both worm things, though.  Is that weird?  Why both of us?”

Shiro considered that.  “Well, we do spend a lot of time together,” he pointed out.  “And maybe it’s... there was a lot of talk about eating and tearing apart but nothing about claws or holding.”

Considering, Matt tilted his head, then nodded.  “Maybe.  I like the first example.  I’m rubbing off on you.”  Then he snickered.  “I mean, we knew that.”

This time, Shiro grinned into Matt’s hair.  “You really want to sleep on the floor, huh?”

“Aww, we’re having a nice conversation.  Let me flirt, Shirogane.  You know you like it.”  Matt turned in his lap so he was straddling Shiro instead, then pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.  “Is it better if I say we rub off on each other?”

For a moment, irritation fought with amusement, but in the end Shiro smiled.  “You just cannot help yourself, can you?”

“Not around you,” Matt replied easily, draping his arms around Shiro’s neck. “So blame yourself, Beefcake.”

Laughing, Shiro playfully jerked forward, nearly spilling Matt off his lap.  “I like blaming you.  It’s usually right.”

“Rude and cruel,” Matt replied. “Slanderous.  Ruining our lovely moment.”

Shiro just rolled his eyes.  “I’m very sorry for my factually true statements.”

Kissing him, Matt grinned.  “Good.”  Then he settled back down, relaxing his arms down but flopped over Shiro’s front.  “Are there blankets in here?”

“Dunno, never used them,” Shiro replied.  “And I can’t ask.  The Black Lion is basically in sleep mode.”

Matt let out a grumpy noise.  “Can we at least get you out of the armor? I don’t mind the bodysuit, it’s kinda soft.”

Somehow, Shiro found himself pausing at the idea.  He didn’t want to undress in the lion.  That was stupid, right?  Hell, even if it wasn’t ridiculous, Black was asleep.  “Yeah, alright, up.”

“Dammit, I didn’t think this through.”  Matt groaned but stood, kicking off his shoes and stretching.  When Shiro got up, he slipped back into it, and grinned when Shiro eyed him.

One problem at a time.  Armor first.

Once he was done to just the suit, Shiro turned, hands on his hips.  Matt waggled his brows back.  “You know, it’s not that different from your usual outfit.  Just has more color with the blue.”

It really wasn’t, but somehow it did make Shiro feel more exposed.  It was an undersuit, and it didn’t really matter, but the association was closer to underwear.  Huh.  Ignoring the thought, Shiro shoved his way in next to Matt.  The chair wasn’t wide enough for them both, not really, but he managed to squeeze in when they were chest to chest.  Fumbling against the side, Shiro’s brow furrowed until he found a catch, and then he pulled it, making the chair’s back fall down, taking them with it.  

Hah.  Success.

“Who knew robot cats worked like old cars,” Matt mused.  Then he paused.  “Hey, is this the Voltron version of fumbling in your backseat?  You didn’t even take me to prom, you cheapskate.” 

Shiro snorted.  “I didn’t go to prom.  It was for sheeple.”

The noise Matt made was sheer delight.  “When we get back to Earth, I am going to find pictures of your teenage years, I swear.”

Shiro only shrugged, but Matt probably would.  He always seemed to be able to get what he wanted, in the end.  Rather than reply, Shiro tugged him in closer.  

Matt murmured something about déjà vu, and it took Shiro a moment to get it.  Chuckling, he nodded.

They always seemed to end up back in tiny metal ships, floating through the black void of space, huge and empty and timeless.

Well, it worked out, ‘cause Shiro liked it there.  And because he wasn’t alone.


	26. Uliro

_ I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you. I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer. But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.) _

Ulaz was  _ strange. _

At first, Shiro thought it was just alien strangeness.  After all, he was still often blindsided by some of the differences between Alteans and Humans, who were much closer in form.

But then Allura kept giving Ulaz wild looks, different from the constant, cold glares she’d been shooting him.  It was something a relief, because there was only so many times he could repeat  _ we can trust him _ before he wanted to throw his hands up and scream.  They fought the same battle over and over, with Shiro backing Ulaz and being proven  _ right, _ but it didn’t seem to matter.

Now, though, something had changed.  Allura’s glares had dried up, replaced with expressions like she’d been slapped, and then like she wanted to lie down.

Which got Shiro concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked, as everyone else filed out of the kitchen, Ulaz ducking to fit in the doorframe too small for him.  Hmm, were they even feeding him right?  Surely Coran would have said something, wouldn’t he?  Alteans had to know about Galran nutritional needs.  But Ulaz seemed to eat what everyone else was, without a problem.

Well, mostly.  Except what he kept pushing onto Shiro’s plate.  Some things didn’t seem to be to his taste, but was that biological or simply preference?

Oh, the many, many questions that would probably never get answers.  Shiro had an endless supply of them, and a quarter of the time he needed to ask.

Allura frowned at him, that same ‘you’re being naive’ look he was getting thoroughly sick of.  If she said that Ulaz’ eating habits were suspicious, then Shiro was going to give up right now.  He didn’t even use a  _ knife. _

“You don’t see it, do you?”  She asked.

Shiro paused a moment to focus on keeping his expression schooled.  “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

With a bland look, Allura pointed at Shiro’s plate.  It still had remnants of what Ulaz had shoveled on, since frankly he’d already given himself a plentiful helping.  

Using a fork to poke the scraps, Shiro eyed her back.  “I don’t see what’s so threatening about cut pieces of meat.”

That made Allura pause, and she sighed.  “Not threatening.  More... interesting.”  She frowned at the empty doorway, brow furrowed.  “His behavior is unusual.”

“Because it’s peaceful?” Shiro asked, before he could stop himself.

Allura’s lips thinned at the barely veiled tone, but she didn’t comment.  “No, it’s unlike a Galra.  In general, outside of everything else.  He’s not acting normally around you.”

Shiro wracked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about.  Ulaz did treat him differently than the other paladins, true, but Ulaz also... well, they had a different connection.  A past, a gamble they’d both taken.  It had bonded them, Shiro thought.

“We have a history,” he finally responded carefully.

To his surprise, Allura nodded.  “Yes!  Exactly.”

They both stared at each other, silent.

“I still don’t get it,” Shiro finally told her.

Allura groaned and covered her face.  “It’s simply that...  Galra don’t  _ share _ food.  They never did.  It’s a very personal thing for them to do.  And now he keeps giving you his meat.  The most important part of the meal.”

“It has been 10,000 years,” Shiro replied, head tilted.  “Social norms may have changed, in that time.”

“Not like this.  This is different.  I just... didn’t expect it of him.”  Allura frowned again, distant.  “He’s a very odd Galra.”

Shiro had figured that much out, from the stories he’d heard.  Ulaz was a bit... beyond.

“I don’t mind it,” he finally told her.  “It’s unfortunate that some pieces went to waste, but it’s not an issue for me.”

That made Allura start, and she looked at him with new eyes, running up and down his form.  Frankly, she looked like he’s discovered something embarrassing about him, and Shiro glanced down once to make sure he hadn’t spilled food on himself somehow.

Finally, she gave a tiny nod.  “If it doesn’t bother you.”  Then, her voice lowered, like she hadn’t really meant to say it.  “It explains a lot.”

Explained what?

“It’s your choice,” she finally replied, shaking her head again.  “It’s baffling, but your choice.  I suppose if you must, this isn’t the worst option.  He’s different, that much is true.  Just keep your head about it, will you?”

Shiro’s voice caught, and he stared after her.  “I’ll try,” he finally offered, nothing more than confused autopilot.

With a last sigh and a glance over her shoulder, Allura left, and Shiro was left more confused than when he’d started.

  
  


Later, when Shiro was rolling across the mat, keeping his arm up and over his head to avoid slicing himself on it, the odd conversation was still clanging through his head.

“You are distracted,” Ulaz noted flatly, deactivating his mask to frown at Shiro.  “You will make no headway in this battle unless you focus.”

He was right, too.  Ulaz, in his full armor, was the only living opponent Shiro could use his arm against, and he shouldn’t be squandering the precious time.  Without it, Shiro’s weight and strength disadvantages were hard to overcome.  He’d occasionally managed to send Ulaz to the floor, but it was less often than he’d like.

Shiro occasionally wondered how the hell he’d survived the Arena, when he was so often thoroughly outclassed.  But the answer was simple, in the end: he’d been fighting to live.

“Sorry,” he finally responded, dragging himself up.  “Give me a moment.  I need to get my head back on right.”

Ulaz tilted his head.  “Your head seems well put together to me.”  

When Shiro opened his mouth to explain the phrase, he noticed the curve of Ulaz’s mouth and paused.  He was joking.

Not for the first time, he was hit by a rush of fondness, which he pushed away.  That was beyond inappropriate, and completely ill advised. 

“Thank you, but I’ll take a moment anyway,” Shiro replied, grinning back.

Taking a step forward, Ulaz moved into Shiro’s space.  “Are the events of dinner bothering you?”

“Bothering is the wrong word,” Shiro replied immediately.  “But that and the conversation I had with Allura after are sticking with me, yes.”

For some reason, that made Ulaz frown.  “If I have made you uncomfortable, I wish to apologize.”

Shiro paused, looking up at him.  “No, of course you haven’t.”

“I’m glad.  I thought a blunt approach would be best, as you are unfamiliar with the subtleties of our culture.  If you do not mind, I wish to continue to court you.”

Court him?

Shiro’s mind crashed to a sudden halt.

Allura insisting it was a private gesture. Her expression when he said he didn’t mind.  Ulaz’s joking care, how he always wished to stay close to Shiro, how he was fond of placing his hands on him.

Oh.

Ooooh.

Maybe not so inappropriate after all.

“I think I should be thankful you didn’t ask any of the other paladins for advice on this,” Shiro murmured, almost to himself.  He could just imagine the ‘help’ Lance would offer, if Ulaz asked for blunt ways to show his affection.

Ulaz reached forward, his huge, heavy hand resting on Shiro’s jaw and shoulders.

It was bad how much he liked that.  Or, maybe fortunate.

“In your Earth movies, I have now seen the kissing.  May I try that?”

Endeared, Shiro smiled.  “I’d like that.”

They did.  And it took a moment to figure out, because where Ulaz was Galra (specifically his teeth) didn’t always translate well to what Shiro was used to.

But they made it work.


	27. Uliro

_ I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m no good) _

Staring up at the ceiling, Ulaz wondered if this was too far.

It was not the first time he’d thought that.  Nor was it the first time with Shiro in his bed, curled around a pillow and face relaxed.

The human looked lovely like that.  Soft and warm, a rarity among his people.  Gentle despite his steel, both literal and figurative.

Ulaz had let this go too far.  He should not gave pressed, should not have made that step, because it was all based on a fundamental lie.

The lie he’d told Shiro, that evening they first met.

He’d told Shiro what he’d wanted to here.  That he was setting him free to be a leader, to be an example, to give hope.  To get the lion and save it from the Galra.

Ulaz hadn’t meant it, had only said what he thought would make Shiro  _ move, _ so he’d stop asking so many thrice damned questions before they were caught.  He’d seen Shiro in the arena - many had, the fights were broadcast around the universe -  and knew him to be formidable and hard to catch.  Stubborn too, persistent to a goal.

He’d looked bigger on screen.

So Ulaz had said the first thing that sounded right, just to make the human go.  He’d return to his home, and he’d cause a panic, and then Earth would be a little more prepared for the Galra.

It wouldn’t help them.  In the end, they would be crushed harder for their resistance, no matter how many Champions lived there.  No one planet could fight off the Galra, not for long, not really.  Especially not a species that hadn’t ventured outside its own meager solar system.  Instead, they’d been a distraction, something to keep the fleet busy while the Blades snuck in and retrieved the lion before Zarkon could get a hold of it.

Ulaz had sent Shiro to a slaughter.  Had sent him to rouse his people into a more brutal destruction.

But Shiro had done more than that.  Had done more than anyone had thought possible for anyone, had exceeded all expectations.  Him and his crew.  They’d found  _ Alteans, _ reformed  _ Voltron, _ freed a Balmera.

Shiro had become everything Ulaz had said to him.  Had proved his words achingly correct.

And Shiro still thought Ulaz had known.  That he’d somehow seen to the core of him and been kind, been affectionate.  Shiro had told him so, eyes soft and warm, cheek pressed into Ulaz’ much larger palm.  It had been the first act of relative kindness Shiro had received in a year, and he’d latched onto it so strongly he’d remembered even when he forgot all else, including Ulaz himself.

That was the lie Ulaz was living.

This had gone  _ too far. _

Even now, the marks of Ulaz’ presence with Shiro were making themselves visible.  Jagged red scratches where his claws had caught the pale skin, blotches of color, recent and old, where Ulaz’ grip had damaged the blood vessels just below sight.

Absurdly, the human didn’t seem to mind them.  He laughed at Ulaz’ apologies, ran his fingers over the discoloration and grinned, insisted he enjoyed them.  That he enjoyed the actions that caused them, and it only reminded him.

Ulaz was considered reckless to his people, Galra and Blades alike.

Shiro - the humans in general, but Shiro specifically - put him to shame.

Maybe that was what made their Keith so temperamental.  He was a mix of both species.  Maybe that produced explosive results.

The mix of Galra and human in this bed certainly did.

Reaching out, Ulaz traced Shiro’s forehead, pushing his head fur (hair, Shiro had corrected, laughing for some reason at the difference) off his forehead.  Despite the fact that he’d barely touched him, Shiro’s eyes cracked open, and he offered Ulaz a smile.  “Mmm.  Time?”

“You would call it 1 AM,” Ulaz replied, because he’d learned their timekeeping quickly.  It helped make the humans more predictable, which was a utter necessity in dealing with them.

Shiro hummed and nodded, then scooted closer.  “Probably shouldn’t do anything more, now,” he teased.  “But I could be persuaded.”

Petting more firmly, Ulaz shoot his head.  Shiro slotted between his arm and chest, his toes still only hitting mid-calf.  “No, you should continue to rest.  I do not wish for you to be tired.”

“It’d be the fun kind of tired,” Shiro argued, but it was a wasted effort.  Even now, he yawned until his jaw cracked (Ulaz’ ear twitched and his nose crinkled at the sound), then nuzzled in.  “Probably right.”

“I like to think I usually am right,” Ulaz replied, and Shiro huffed out his amusement into Ulaz’ chest.

This was too far.  Ulaz had been right in words and wrong in action, and someday Shiro would see past the shine of his affection.  The Alteans were clever, and some of the younger humans were terrifying smart, despite their species’ shorter development time.  One day, they would figure out what Ulaz’ plan was, and what that meant.

Ulaz didn’t deserve this.  

Shiro deserved better.

But Ulaz said nothing, only continuing to pet until Shiro’s breath evened back out into sleep, and then rumbled with his soft snores.

It wasn’t good of him.  Wrong, even.  But Ulaz wasn’t going to be the one to say it, not while he could have this.

The consequences would come later.  It was too late to take it all back, and besides, Ulaz didn’t want to.

He’d take each day as it came, instead.


	28. Shatt

_ At my worst, I worry you’ll realize you deserve better. At my best, I worry you won’t. (I’ve never been better.) _

 

_ The lights of the arena were blinding in this match.  It seemed like they were always pointed directly into his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. _

_ It didn’t matter.  Shiro still needed to win. _

_ Forcing his eyes to relax, Shiro stopped trying to see clearly and just looked for the black blur that was his opponent, silhouetted against the backdrop.  They moved fast, though, dodging around Shiro in a pattern he couldn’t figure out. _

_ He barely got a second to react when they suddenly launched at him, their blade shining a new light into Shiro’s eyes. _

_ He tumbled to the ground, safely rolling out of the way, as a plan started to unfold in his mind.  The metal of his opponent’s blade shone like that, so what if he used his arm to- _

_ Diving forward again, his opponent struck, and Shiro shifted so it whistled past his ear.  Then he raised his arm, half automatic reaction and half poorly thought out plan.  He needed to reflect light, he needed light, he must need it on- _

_ His fist connected with the alien’s face. _

_ They screamed. _

_ So did Shiro. _

So did Shiro.

Sitting up, he panted out his panic, aware of the sweat clinging to his chest, of his choked, terrified breathing, of the purple glow of his activated arm in a dark room.

Of Matt sitting up next to him, awake and eyes wide.

Shit.

Shiro’s arm shut off suddenly, and he curled around it like he could physically keep Matt from seeing it.  Or like he could protect him if it came to life and struck him, just like it had struck down so many opponents.

Shivering, Shiro curled up tighter.

Shit shit shit.

“Shiro?” Matt murmured.  “Are you here?  Do you know where you are?”

Unfortunately.  Shiro nodded, small and jerky.

Letting out a slow breath, Matt nodded back.  “Okay.  Good.  Not that- that you know where you are.  That you know that you’re safe.”

Yeah, Shiro was.  Shiro was always the one who came out of these, broken and in pieces but alive.

It was those around him that died.  His arm was  _ dangerous, _ and he’d activated it in his sleep with Matt  _ still there. _

He could have killed him.

Shiro started to shake.

“Hey, hey there.  It’s okay, Takashi.  C’mere-” Matt reached out like he wanted to draw Shiro into a hug.

“No!”  Shiro jerked away, sudden and hard enough that he tumbled off the edge of the bed.

Above him, Matt cursed, then his head poked over the side.  “Are you okay?  I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have tried that.”

Shiro stared at him.  “Why are you apologizing?  I nearly killed you!”

Frowning, Matt’s brows came together.  “By falling off the bed?”  Then it seemed to click.  “Because of your arm?  I know better than to try and poke you awake during a nightmare, and I stayed out of your reach.  I was fine.”

That wasn’t something Matt should have to do.  Shiro shouldn’t make him be responsible for defending himself from Shiro’s nightmares.

What was he doing here?

“I’m sorry, I should- I should go.”  Shiro clenched his eyes tight as he stood, legs still shaky from the adrenaline.  

A hand shot out and grabbed his natural wrist.  Shiro flinched, but Matt held on until Shiro looked at him.  “If you want space you can go, but this is sounding an awful lot like ‘I’m leaving you for your own good.’”

At the late hour, the wording didn’t click, so Shiro nodded.  “I’m dangerous.”

“Fuck that,” Matt said, so flat that Shiro jumped.  “You promised, you ass.  And you better keep this one, because I’m resigned to the ‘I’ll be safe’ ones being bullshit.  No breaking up with me for my own good.  I’m holding you to that.  It’s not allowed.  If we’re breaking up because I need to, it’ll be from my mouth, not yours.”

Right, he had agreed to that.  Shiro sighed.  “I’m dangerous.  And you deserve better than this.”

“Deserve better than the Black Paladin of Voltron?” Matt drawled.  “Please, fly me to the planet of hot, noble guys with cute smiles and a stupid self-sacrificial streak and I’ll think about it.”

Shiro stared at him.  “I’m  _ serious. _  I’m keeping you up at night.  I wasn’t even supposed to sleep here because of this.  And one wrong noise and I could have cracked your head open.”

“One wrong trip and I could crack my own head open.  I take that risk because I enjoy walking.”  Matt tugged on Shiro’s wrist.  “I make my own choices.  I’m an adult.  Let’s act like it.  And I say I want to stay with you.  If this isn’t working for you, fine, but I’ll kick your ass if you try and make it about me when I don’t feel that way.”

Reluctantly, Shiro’s lips pulled up.  “You’d try.”

Matt glared back.  “I’d fight you with the fury of a thousand suns and I’d defeat your sorry ass, don’t try me.  Now come back to bed.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Shiro sat back down.  “I do mean it.  You deserve someone who won’t hurt you.”

“The only way you’ve hurt me is by hurting yourself,” Matt replied sharply.  “Unless you mean literally, in which case it was to save my life, so fucking moot.  Now stop talking nonsense and let me cuddle your ass to sleep.”

That dragged a chuckle from Shiro, and he allowed himself to be pulled down to Matt’s chest.  It took a few moments, but he let his hand rest on Matt’s hip.  “I should sleep in my bed, if my arm is going to activate in my sleep.”

“Not until you’ve calmed down,” Matt declared.  “If I’m freaking you out, fine, but you’ll just have another nightmare immediately if you go to sleep this keyed up. And god knows you need the help to relax.  Now shush, I’m petting your hair.  I like the sound it makes.”

True to form, Matt ran his fingers down the buzz above Shiro’s neck, using his nails to make a soft scratching noise.

Smiling against Matt’s chest, Shiro found himself relaxing.

He didn’t deserve this.  Matt really did deserve better.  He deserved someone who could put Matt’s own issues first, not make him spend so much time looking after Shiro.

But tonight, he’d take advantage.

He’d regret it someday, he knew, but Shrio could only fight so long when giving in gave him what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I am no longer accepting requests for these, by the way. Thank you to everyone for the interest!


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